Day 18 Lyrics – Skip Dover
Singer: Skip Dover
Title: Day 18
Last night, last night
Yo, yo, last night
Last night they caught Tony in his Caddy, lacking
I wasn’t there, but I’m still glad it happened
And my insomnia’s my only witness
Quote these scriptures, corona ain’t the only sickness
I told you b#tches
Now I’ve gotta load the Smith and Wesson
About to learn this little lesson about these weapons
I’m gettin’ neck and playin’ Tekken
You want that Tesla, need that Testarossa
This money cracked the seams in my jeans
Black the Beam, red the Rover
I’mma test it if she text come ovеr
She get a check to rock that Fashion Nova
p#ss# poppin’, brеasts all stretched out on my leather sofa
I’m never sober
Grape leaves, suede sleeves, leather shoulders
Skeet shooting in Gilgo Beach, I’m next to no one
Smell like clean money, bills don’t crease, pleasant aroma
Sorry baby girl, we can’t get any closer
I’m in and out, then it’s over
Uh, gettin’ some’s better than none
Twenty-one minutes of fun, make you c#m, get up then run
My heart beats like a drum, it weighs a ton
I rise with the sun, grippin’ my guns
Kiss my #ss, you’re a teachers pet, dawg
Lay that AR on the floor and it’ll reach your neck, breathe in death
Im smokin’ ether, now I need some neck, need some rest
Who needs some Tech, ’cause we’re the refs
Uh
No lie, I really got that
All these suckers frontin’ they pumpin’, you need to stop that
Make a mess where my block at, tell my young-ins to mop that
This is a automatic, it don’t c#ck back
And the block’s still hot in the winter time
Got 5 to drop on a watch, in the nick of time
I ain’t smokin’ nicks no more, West Flower, smoking The Villain
Throwin’ these Williams, they’re gon’ have to throw me in prison
In the BM, backup camera’s never been used
Back up, knife in my back, but I sewed it back up
I don’t need no back up, wait for him to get back up
I was down now I’m back up
Break it down, roll the pack up
Pack loud as the fart of a fat trucker, you wack f#cker
Your whole image is lackluster, you lack structure
I stack hundreds in bags brother, these fags suffer
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Lyrics Skip Dover – Day 18
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