Compositor: Joy Kiyara Mcneil, Dylan Elias Petrucci
Letras
Crocs on, with the vegan snacks in my bag
From bikini bottom, might just eat me a salad
Yeah i'm in my bag, pullin strings, feelin glad
It's fuck them white kids, but they still think I'm rad
D-icle, nothin like you
Short and sweet, like a haiku
I feel excited I light it
And watch the smoke fill up the room
You niggas borin I'm snorin
I shake shit up like a typhoon
B is for bad bitch
P for period
That's the end of the cycle
Wishy washy niggas, yeah I hate that
My nigga fine as hell, sell dope and got a face tat
Like when he make my legs stutter like m-m-m-m-maybach
He say "I got it lil mama", close my eyes and then I lay back
But that ain't even what we talking bout
It's me, flower in bloom
The queen bee of da house
Really just talkin cause I ain't made shit in a while
Is this music shit for me
Or am I in denial