BlueBucksClan, DJ & Jeeezy – Horace Grant Lyrics | Video

Lyrics Horace Grant – BlueBucksClan, DJ & Jeeezy

I feel like these n**gas soft, n**gas cupcakes
Told her I don’t want no p**sy, let me f**k face
Last night was Prada down, had a rough day
My feet will never ever feel how no chuck lace

Big foreigns blocking all the neighbors front gate
In the stu, I’m tryna see what b**ches up late
On the phone with my jeweler what’s the update
I can see from court side, these n**gas pump faking
Wouldn’t believe what I paid for my watch
Cant believe what I paid for this wop

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Fifteen hundred dollars in this pot
Put your lips on this cup, you bet not
Quiet b**ch locked me up, I was shocked

Looked down at my pockets
They on steroids Barrys Bonds me a n**ga, Uncle Elroy
Here go twenty five hundred, get your hair done
B**ch I paid every bill, you can’t trip none

I’m with eight b**ches out of town make the trip fun
This my last cup, I can’t afford to spill none
Told the chef make my plate when the meal done

Jeeezy put up in the lamb, you shoulda seen her
Hundreds in the glove compartment for no reason
Need some undergarments, finna go to Neiman’s
A lot of great b**ches know about this penĩs
My b**ch popped up on me, what you thinking

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I ain’t even writing s**t, I’m just speaking
I ain’t never wrote no s**t down, I just wing it
I can show you how to run these plays, I’m Sarkisian
Rich b**ches with some fire head what I’m seeking
Seen your baby daddy, he still sliding in that Lincoln
I just seen your b**ch slide in the little Honda
All I want is face, told her I don’t got no condom
Thirteen hundred dollar shirt, yeah no problem
Big sh*es on the bottoms say P.r.ada

Give her ten bands every time I see my mama
Bring ten friends when you come to see Obama
N****s asking me where the h*es cause I got em
Can’t bring no lames round my bros, they might rob em

Forgis got me sitting real high like a Tonka
I keep f**king all my b**ch friends, that’s my problem
All these black trucks pulling up, where my driver
My b**ch bad and she thick as f**k, I can’t hide her

In DaVinci bleeding, damn I need to go to Kaiser
All you do is suck it for a hour, how you tired
We ain’t ever tripping over b**ches, that s**t minor
At Celine getting dressed, I don’t need no iron

Putting that s**t on, paid a lot for my attire
Jeeezy he that n**ga all the pretty h*es admire
Five star plates, I aint eating at no diner
Stuff an eighth in the wood, I don’t need no grinder
I want the baddest out the friends, let me meet the rest
Shoot dubs, man I hate how these n****s bet

Swear to got I hate how these n**gas dress
FaceTime with a famous b**ch, It won’t reconnect
I just dumped all my b**ches, finna reselect
Everything you want in that box right there to the left

She like my cologne, she like damn n**ga what is that
Gasing all my songs, they like damn where the chorus at
BucksClan, we can’t lose, I’m the quarterback
Gabana frames on my face, felt like Horace Grant…

➤ BlueBucksClan | DJ | Jeeezy | 2021

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