Testo Can’t Be Crete Boy - Lil Yachty feat. Veeze
Testo della canzone Can’t Be Crete Boy (Lil Yachty feat. Veeze), tratta dall'album Can’t Be Crete Boy
Turn my headphones up a lil' bit
Yeah
I'm the best to ever do it, nigga
Yeah, yeah
Breakin' up happy homes, Chrome Heart made my coat
These niggas behavin' when rappers around, they actin' like Amber Rose
She a ho, so I couldn't propose, give a fuck if her name was Toast
Every day, I re-up on the dope, we gon' drink us a cup with the fro
Goyard filled up with the load, dirty money, I spray it with cologne
Drive-thru, had the trap house rollin', first play with the head, she gold
I make it so she get a swimmin' lesson, I told her to backstroke
Yeah, you woulda thought I was a tennis lesson, I'm servin' my ZIP code
I'm poppin' these pills, smellin' like weed, don't fuck with award shows
He said he was standin' on business, but him and the opps had a convo
I walk through the kitchen to get in the club, you standin' in line, broke
Every day, dead fresh my closet, can't live basically, I'm dyin' slow
I'm sippin' codeine by the pint, lil' baby, I'm sorry, I don't drive boat
I'm throwin' it up in the club, the money you'd risk your life for
I'm rockin' the Concrete Air Force 1, I can't put a price on it
My twin got big-ass stones in the ear, look like he did a heist for it
My mama paid three thousand for a bag, can't even put her phone in it
Paid two-fifty cash for gold Patek, ain't even have stones in it
You niggas so soft, we cut them boys up and ain't got no bones in 'em
Fuck around, fire, I spilled some blood all on my Chrome denim
Nigga mad at me, be mad at your ho, what the fuck is wrong with him?
Y'all took that front and unintentionally doin' a song with him
I-T-S-U-S, anywhere, everywhere, nigga, we hot
These niggas so lame, they rock they jewelry inside the house
Ain't fuck with these niggas, I'm master, movin' around like a bastard
Ain't goin' back and forth with no sucker-ass nigga who fill out FAFSA
First nigga tug on my chain, make an example, make a disaster
I like my hos no face, no case, my bitch straight out Nebraska
Swear to God, I hate all these niggas
On my mama
Nigga, don't ever get it confused just 'cause it's paint on the nail
That motherfucker still squeeze the trigger (brr)
Head-tap it, laid off in them tropics with some exotic shit
Goin' out bad out the mouth come with consequences
You a whole ho, we seen it on the celly cam
Never catch me promoting weed on the Instagram
I wish my bitch would try to pull a Larsa Pippen
I just pulled up wood frames, rockin' Ken Griffeys
Even if I could stop, I wouldn't abort the mission
Bought that bitch a Tiffany bracelet and she started trippin'
You can't call me lil' bro 'cause you ain't richer than me
I just filled my tires up, goin' a hundred and sixty
Gave the bitch a cool rack, had his ass pissy
I don't usually do that, but that'll make her miss me
Beggin' for her back, sneakin', I don't trust him
Terrible matchup, think he fuckin' with me
Hit his ass up like Dr. Miami
Bringin' cash up, I'm in the sixties family
M's
Yeah
Gang, gang
Can't Be
CB, Crete boy, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Ridin' 'round the city, dirty one-liter with me
These niggas like police dogs, nose in my business
I know a nigga hustle harder and he one-legged
We hop out suicide doors, the coupe got double letters
Young nigga ballin' OD, they need to drug test me
I'm in the field rockin' Chrome like Odell Beckham
I bought my shit so much shit, I got caught textin'
He just another dead goofy, he is not a legend
My whole gang up, purple rain, no umbrella
Mind got me paid off of kickin' shit, Lionel Messi
White lady starin' at my chain, nice, I created it
Glass pint slippin' out the bottle, ooh, Cinderella
Walk down, tag a windshield like a car seller
Kill a young nigga, make his ass meet his ancestors
We just poured a pop, probably add what your stash was
We don't wear no Goyards for fashion, it's cash in it, nigga
Credits
Writer(s): Brandon Mitchell, Tab Virgil, Byron Thomas, Barbara Mason, Miles Parks Mccollum, Deshawn Terry Jackson, Karon Vantrees
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