Lyrics to Neymar
Talkin' to the mic, it's no one else to vent to
He'll go and blow it all, know when the rent due
We done quintupled their score, it's like 10-2
He don't know his drank at all, 'd probably buy a fent' deuce
Never ever would I fold or break but bitch we bend coupes
Only date I'll take that lil' bitch on is to the bedroom
Couple thousand blues up in my jeans, you'd think my legs bruised
(Baby, give me some cash)
(Shitty Boyz)
Chillin on the Audemars, I'm in my Rolliе era
Catching plays in Cartiers, I look like Yogi Bеrra
Tryna show the kid her goodies, you would think the ho Sierra
Neighbor acting like she grabbing mail, stop being nosey, Sarah
Tuh, that's the 'burbs for you
I could be a pint of Wock', I wouldn't perp to you
I'm a hundred, Ben Frank, but never changing like a penny
Used to have a piggy bank, I know to save it 'til it's heavy
Lil' ho got that water on her, type that's breaking through the leavies
Thinkin' he the comp, he must be out here facing blunts of fetty
Eyes all around my head, it ain't no way to slime me out
Spot looking like a Dairy Queen when it be ninety out
This bitch slammin', this bitch active, this bitch whammin', this bitch slappin'
Life a gamble and it's obvious you threw a crap
They gon pick me up regardless, I ain't gotta shoot for cap
Add me up, you need the calculator app to do the math
Tryna fit in with the gang, he fucked around and blew his stash
I just checked doggies stats and it was goose eggs
I got lows, catch some more, but this some new bread
Talkin' 'bout your life a movie, must be bootleg
So many bitties in here going, I'ma need a few beds
Yeah, I fucked, but if I see her out, I got dementia
Cream soda Faygo, I done turned the pop magenta
Thought he got a brick of soft, the rookie copped some Splenda
Shoutout to the fans that always try to push the Tron agenda
Shooter pulled up off the Henny, fucked around and J.R Smith-ed it
Picking up some chicken in the A, but not no J.R. Crickets
You would think it's tryna score a goal the way the AR kickin'
Sent forty shots out the drum and now it's Neymar in it
Couldn't sneak the blicky, but my lil' ho got her taser in
Tryna pull my bitch with empty pockets, be done made her cringe
Stick to uppin' guns on multiplayer, you a gamer kid
Seven hundred horses in the foreign, call it Lazer Dim
I wouldn't even touch your bitch with a stick
Driver need to chill out, speeding, it's a brick in the Lyft
Hope your kicks got some grip, you might slip in the drip
You would think granny whooped it, hit my blick with a switch
Double cup as dirty than the fuck, you'd think my pop stink
I ain't squarin' up in this Chrome Heart, no I am not Tank
Flashy with the fraud, I'm signing fluke checks with mock blanks
When it comes to playing roles with hoes, you'd think I'm Tom Hank's
Magic man, but I ain't Datsyuk
Quick to put my hitter on your head just like some Cantu
F&N perform a face buster like it's Sabu
Saved her contact as, "Finish Line," that lil' ho ran through
What's on your feet? Shit you must've cut the grass in those
Ain't no way you got some ass in those
His pockets tapped, you would think they couldn't grab the ropes
Lil brodie quit his job at Kroger, now he baggin' dope
I hit his bitch, so he saying that we opps
But he ain't on a thing, so I'm saying that we not
ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia, long live $cam, you know?
Hey, nyah
He'll go and blow it all, know when the rent due
We done quintupled their score, it's like 10-2
He don't know his drank at all, 'd probably buy a fent' deuce
Never ever would I fold or break but bitch we bend coupes
Only date I'll take that lil' bitch on is to the bedroom
Couple thousand blues up in my jeans, you'd think my legs bruised
(Baby, give me some cash)
(Shitty Boyz)
Chillin on the Audemars, I'm in my Rolliе era
Catching plays in Cartiers, I look like Yogi Bеrra
Tryna show the kid her goodies, you would think the ho Sierra
Neighbor acting like she grabbing mail, stop being nosey, Sarah
Tuh, that's the 'burbs for you
I could be a pint of Wock', I wouldn't perp to you
I'm a hundred, Ben Frank, but never changing like a penny
Used to have a piggy bank, I know to save it 'til it's heavy
Lil' ho got that water on her, type that's breaking through the leavies
Thinkin' he the comp, he must be out here facing blunts of fetty
Eyes all around my head, it ain't no way to slime me out
Spot looking like a Dairy Queen when it be ninety out
This bitch slammin', this bitch active, this bitch whammin', this bitch slappin'
Life a gamble and it's obvious you threw a crap
They gon pick me up regardless, I ain't gotta shoot for cap
Add me up, you need the calculator app to do the math
Tryna fit in with the gang, he fucked around and blew his stash
I just checked doggies stats and it was goose eggs
I got lows, catch some more, but this some new bread
Talkin' 'bout your life a movie, must be bootleg
So many bitties in here going, I'ma need a few beds
Yeah, I fucked, but if I see her out, I got dementia
Cream soda Faygo, I done turned the pop magenta
Thought he got a brick of soft, the rookie copped some Splenda
Shoutout to the fans that always try to push the Tron agenda
Shooter pulled up off the Henny, fucked around and J.R Smith-ed it
Picking up some chicken in the A, but not no J.R. Crickets
You would think it's tryna score a goal the way the AR kickin'
Sent forty shots out the drum and now it's Neymar in it
Couldn't sneak the blicky, but my lil' ho got her taser in
Tryna pull my bitch with empty pockets, be done made her cringe
Stick to uppin' guns on multiplayer, you a gamer kid
Seven hundred horses in the foreign, call it Lazer Dim
I wouldn't even touch your bitch with a stick
Driver need to chill out, speeding, it's a brick in the Lyft
Hope your kicks got some grip, you might slip in the drip
You would think granny whooped it, hit my blick with a switch
Double cup as dirty than the fuck, you'd think my pop stink
I ain't squarin' up in this Chrome Heart, no I am not Tank
Flashy with the fraud, I'm signing fluke checks with mock blanks
When it comes to playing roles with hoes, you'd think I'm Tom Hank's
Magic man, but I ain't Datsyuk
Quick to put my hitter on your head just like some Cantu
F&N perform a face buster like it's Sabu
Saved her contact as, "Finish Line," that lil' ho ran through
What's on your feet? Shit you must've cut the grass in those
Ain't no way you got some ass in those
His pockets tapped, you would think they couldn't grab the ropes
Lil brodie quit his job at Kroger, now he baggin' dope
I hit his bitch, so he saying that we opps
But he ain't on a thing, so I'm saying that we not
ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia, long live $cam, you know?
Hey, nyah
