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tramp Stamp - Veeze

tramp Stamp

Veeze

00:00

02:32

Song Introduction

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Lyric

(DDot cold as a motherfucker on God) yeah

How I'm gon' leave how I came in

Fake broke on a bitch, 'cause she fake bad

Tried to fuck 'fore I asked what her name is

Airplane mode on a bitch, she ain't say yes

Unlaced Ricks, my mind playin' tricks

Replays at the hoes that I paid to hit

You want a competition, first catch my attention

Niggas fakin' litty, leave that for the bitches

Fake love all I'm gettin', "Veeze what's that you sippin'?"

Four of red make my cream soda look like a penny

The drank be callin' me the most when I think 'bout quittin'

Slimeball like P. Diddy, cakewalk to get it

Most sons in history, I should be in Guinness

I can't incriminate, I live illegitimate

Need to stop makin' hoes snakes 'fore they kill me

Need to stop makin' promises, I know I live fast

She fuckin' on a famous nigga, I know that pussy wet

You lonely enough to fuck a lame nigga, I feel bad

I'm puttin it up, my money old just like a granddad

I'm rich enough to put her son in piano actin' classes

I'm the first nigga from my hood with jet lag

I'm a dirty pop king, I'm buyin' Neverland

I'ma go black and white shorts, Everlast

Said she wanna tat "Veeze" told her "Tramp stamp it"

Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp it"

Said she wanna tat, "Veeze", yeah, tramp stamp

Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"

Bitch, you wanna tat, "Veeze", uh, tramp stamp

Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"

Yeah, I'm in

I'ma fuck the fame up, still get the weight gone

I can't wear no Bally baby, used to be my play clothes

Lot of shit in my blood, but it ain't no hate though

Fuck the TSA though, Jet Turks and Caicos

No persistent pay though, broke men hobbies

Kept a 4 off the pint, pour an Aaron Rodgers

Dog mad, he ain't got no damn dollars

She told me every problem while we was havin' Lobster

4 damn pockets, pokin' out it's obvious

I'll spend every dollar on a dead body

200k profit, me and Swan Mafia

Lil bro on the high key got exotic broccoli

Blicky got me comfy, Xanny got me confident

Crooked always plottin', gangster Bumpy Johnson

Type of nigga see you ballin' and wanna foul you

Type of nigga gettin' nowhere dick-ridin' (gang)

(DDot cold as a motherfucker on God)

- It's already the end -