Blac Soda (Freestyle) lyrics

Part I: "Blac Soda (Freestyle)"

[Verse 1]
b*tch, twist up a eighth. I am zapped zapped
I still got a weed man, don't use no weedmaps
I said I quit f*ckin' your hoe, I'm 'bout to relapse
Twenty b*tches in the back, that's where we at
Sleepy off the brown, in my dungeon
And I'm cryin' while I cut she got a muhf*ckin' onion
And I'm always on my toes, like a muhf*ckin' bunion
Baby weavin through these hoes be too hard, I got a bundles, uh
I like my b*tches wet and wavy, freaky
Long ass tongue like Kakey, tweaky
Said she'd do it better on her knees, call her knee-knee
Internet b*tch, she a bird, she Tweety
I had to see it, see it for myself
Be a, Be a shame if that lil' jawn got left
Chain in my ring, strawberry but ain't no shortcake
I don't know when I'll be back, lil' bih go check the tour dates

[Verse 2]
b*tch, twist up a eighth. I am zapped zapped
Hmm, where the blunts at
Seven-eleven, crap
She say she wanna kick it with me, Imma punt that
Hmm, coochie juicy, I attack, Hawaiian Punch that, hmm
Lil' b*tch, roll the f*ck up (Gotta roll your own sh*t)
You ain't put on sh*t, roll the f*ck up (The f*ck you thought this sh*t was 'bout to be?)
Lil' b*tch, roll the f*ck up
You ain't put on sh*t, roll the f*ck up, ayy
[Outro]
Think sh*t just gon' be sweet, huh?
For real though
Sick and tired of these muhf*ckers coming 'round me tryna smoke all my good sh*t up, man
I'm tired of this Grandpa
That's too damn bad!
Oke yours, n*gga
Feel me?
Straight up
sh*t n*gga anyway, n*ggas be needing to be smokin' they own sh*t anyway
Don't pass me sh*t and don't ask me sh*t, you dig?

[Interlude: Buddy]
Hey yo what's crackin'? It's your boy Buddy givin' a shout out to Smino grigio in this motherf*cka

Part II: "2MuchFronto"

[Intro]
Yeah
Right
Ooh-woo
Yeah, yeah, yeah

[Chorus]
Just re-up my product, product (Uh)
Bought lil' baby some brand new Prada (Yeah)
South St. Louis, she my momma
Surprise with sugar, she was just tryna flex the
Flat-out, one on one with the b*tch like dollar
Cup dark like Mahershala
Lotta you wanna love
Drinkin' 1-800, hope my baby make my hotline bling (Bling)
Always 1-800, make you wanna blocka-blocka (Damn)
Drinkin' 1-800, hope my baby make my hotline bling (Bling)
Always 1-800, make you wanna blocka-blocka (Damn)
Drinkin' 1-800, hope my baby make my hotline bling (Bling)
Always 1-800, make you wanna blocka-blocka
[Verse]
Brand new watch, Barack-a, presidential
Perriwinkle purple in my Fanta, Fanta
Damn, too much fronto, lil' Bari said too much fronto (Uh)
I don't beef, don't carne asada (Nah)
I don't beat that corn on the cob up (Nah)
di*k like a pistol, never a problem
She callin' me-me-me, poppa
Came from the Northside, diamond upped water, woo
So, you learn, the game's a game (Yeah)
Yeah, fame is fame (Yeah), b*tch, you're lame, you're lame (Yeah)
Took your b*tch to P.F. Chang's
Quick to drip like P.F. Fly, sh*t
She ate up pistachio-oh-oh-oh-oh Breyer's

[Outro: Monte Booker]
Ayy, n*gga, I was just playing my momma the album
She already decided you, you her new favorite rapper
Crazy, them folks from HBO just hit me too
They wanna use some of that new music
I told 'em, "Cut that motherf*ckin' chizzeck"