Foxy Lyrics – DUSS8
Singer: DUSS8
Title: Foxy
Gotta get Foxy on this Joint
Peep my swag and the way I do this
Feel my energy, the way I use it
I’m in your b#tch ear, n#gg# I’m Cupid
Left or right foot
Cross me, you stupid
I’m in your b#tch mouth, she eatin’ all stupid
My pockets be the doofus
My life be the truest
Karate Kid flow, how I kick it and boot sh#t
I just made a flip off the sh#t that they looted
I gotta be honest, I play with big bucks like Giannis
And a n#gg# bad at math but, I’m good with them commas
I met your b#tch last night, she ate up, she the finest
I met her off the Gram, when she slid in my comments
What we talking, n#gg#, money or fly sh#t
The pockets to the garments, n#gg#
I win, I win
Sloppy head from a toxic exotic
Don’t worry about me, n#gg#
Get off my dick
All my jewels real-real
All my n#gg#s real ill
J Rob ready to bang
Shoot, kill-kill
AC cool as a pillow
My n#gg# real chill
I got that old school dope
I’m talking Sugar Hill
My new b#tch know she bad with her Dolce bag
She ain’t got a normal #ss
That b#tch know it’s fat
We was low key smoking gas
I don’t know her past
They ain’t even notice me
I had on my corona mask
My life’s like a movie
Give you real chills
Love it or hate it
We could build or drill
You could speak it or say it
I gotta feel it’s real
Tough talk don’t work in that real field
I push the Lac on 8th that’s all black I got the mac on lap, that’s all black
I don’t do the yak, un un that’s double black
As I sit back
Relax and double stack
I was in back of the patty
Now it’s San Fernando hills in the valley
Saint Laurent top, denim is Acme
Feel a way, n#gg# at me
I don’t wear Amiri jeans
Them sh#ts tacky
Made ten off SBA
I told the Feds, they can catch me
J Rob the Poet, flow
Written proof the slogan, son
E Daney, hustle up
Deuce Eight the slogan, son
AC the chose one
Deaddy nights the slogan, son
Triangle plays be tough
Y’all gotta focus up
From Spain to Paris
Paris to Cabo
Tuesday nights, Up & Down
Sunday nights, Lavo
Everywhere I roll
Usually is a high road
Saltly n#gg#s mad
I could peep the eye roll
Slid your b#tch the number
I bet you ain’t even peep that
Shorty give me mozzy while I’m listening to Keith Sweat
Fogging up the goggles while I’m cruising on the ski jet
Trying to ride the wave and you even get your feet wet
Fresh off the highway
Lost ten at the dice game
Seven cases for my b-day
I do it my way
I f#ck her, when I hate her
I love her, she my thing-thing
I hate vibing with salty n#gg#s
I let that thing bang
They fussing and they fighting
I’m litty out in Dyckman
Everything you do boring
Nothing is exciting
Shorty say she need me
Got coins like Luigi
Rob ahead of his time
My n#gg# out in Fiji
Hood President might join the election
I’m getting too obsessive, always wanting perfection
Just put a bar in my crib with amazing selection
Azul ultra anejo edition
We gettin’ deaddy, un
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Lyrics DUSS8 – Foxy
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