Bbs - The Oxford Coma

Bbs Lyrics

This that gold BBS flow.
Plastic Nike air tags on your original IV's
Niggas is z'ed on your mans, and i'm rollin an Oh
Leave em sleep, I don't need them suckas listening to me
Pack a bong for everything except the kitchen sink
Underneath witch I keep a set of Andy's Clippers
I could fix my line in before we go over by them bitches
A quick little something can't get the back
I don't know where I left my hand mirror, type of dilemmas will never hinder my jet living
We just chilling so don't come around here, fake toughin'
Runnin' after woman
Bossed up, all us, outside the club waiting to tip drivers who pull our cars up.
The fuck you thought this was dawg, imma trill mother fucker after all.
Haters is dressed in safety nets encouraging my fall
Won't catch me there, but you can catch me on air when my new shit premier
At whatever media outlet decide to play it fair
Fuck playin' dead pimpin' imma play the bear, grizzle

Seriously fish burn turn flip styles, furiously, this that 70's soul green Alchemistry, amen been a G since but he leaves lames big cuffin their jeans and their bitches I be cookin these bird assholes, running circles around em, they rotisserie chickens
Love got a shovel in her hand I see you digging strike gold build your own coffin with it, dead ass, flick ashes on the girls in my past tense
They tell us for the ones I was just fuckin
The crib for the one I was gonna get right back with
It's easy to get tangled in the stars, spangled, mangled in the night life, livin out my bars, dangerous.