Peter Pan

Lyrics

[Intro] Alright, yeah [Verse] Make sure you say I'm rich when you send me in yo group chat Looking at the stars while I drive, where my roof at? Feel like Nino, heading to my city with some new jacks Throw the buffys on while she suck it, with my cool-ass We do not beef, you just mad that yo bitch blew me Holding on to high school clout? You a big goofy Telling bae my heart loyal but she know my dick choosing Me and gang tripping up at [?] we punch six movies I was counted out, got 'em tryna add me up now Funny me and gang stayed down but we up now I'll knock the head off yo neck, tryna touch mine Yo bitch want a rapper, she gon' do it for the one time Bitch freak me out, all she wanna do is suck my balls Telling model hoes, "It ain't no fun unless you fuck my dawg" Rich-ass dick, bitch, I spent two hunnid bucks on drawers Was down on the score, now we a hunnid up on y'all All these racks, I could fuck around, win the Wimbledon Said the ShittyBoyz ain't shitting? You a simpleton Everybody on my team scoring when I dish to them Only get one shot in life so I'm swishing it I done blew the [?] on my Jeep, now I'm switching whips I'll light a opp house up, on some Christmas shit I'm a sinner but my Diors on some Christian shit B22s tied up but I'm tripping, bitch I don't do no dick sucking, I don't do no clique jumping Brodie running 'round mean-mugging, tryna blick something Made ten at ten-something, paint step like Tim Duncan Riding 'round with tools on me, I ain't tryna fix nothing Sack on the floor? I'm jumping in like a sleeping bag Got the Glock tucked but Ju Sleaze, he'll sleep his ass Main bitch tryna beat me up, with my cheating-ass SR to the damn T when we screeching pass You could march around with a drum, still won't see a band Ever since a boy I always knew that I'll be the man I'll up stick and stick him up, let me see them hands Flying around the D with green on me like I'm Peter Pan Small Drac', pretty bi— huh, yeah, okay Like, yeah, huh Small Drac', pretty bitch, and a big K Next year it's drop top Porsche when I switch lanes Bitches looking at the group like, "Who the fuck up the most?" I been so deep in my bag that the duffel broke Love when it's chicken in my fingers, bitch, I'm Uncle Joe They ain't put no pape' in my pockets so it's fuck these hoes I can peep the fake love through my buffalos I can talk sticks, no cap, got a bunch of those Mike Amiri pockets stuffed with blue strip onion rolls On a giffy tour with gang-gang if I hug the road Six hunnid just to mean-mug through a Fendi tee Bitch copy everything I do, she my mini me Ain't one in you but I swear it's a M in me Everything I wear wet as fuck, you can't swim with me SBD$M, T-double H-L Gang affiliation, got 'em thinking that I can't spell Brodie ringing down the opp block with that Drake Bell Had to tell her, "I don't chase hoes, bitch, I chase mail" [Outro] Ha-ha, no cap though Dumbass nigga Yeah, huh, ShittyBoyz