Scoreboard Lyrics – StanWill
Singer: StanWill
Title: Scoreboard
One, two, three, four giffies outta Speedway
Five, six, seven Scats racing up the freeway
Eight, nine bands off the scams, it was free pape
Ten f#cking hoes on my dick, b#tch, I need space
Yeah, boy, you better tuck yo b#tch ‘fore we three-way her
For that cheddar, throw more hoes at him than a cheese grater
You’ll never catch my hands out, I don’t need favors
Only thing gang know is shoot, he gon’ think later
Elevation come from separation, I ain’t near these n#gg#s
Painting pictures like I’m van Gogh, don’t wanna hear these n#gg#s
Thousand dollar boy, what you know about Amiri denim?
In the hood, hold on, let me clеar my system
In the hood, we spark his #ss up, hе think he plugged in
Only got the head up off yo b#tch, I only f#ck tens
Funny how if you don’t reach no cover, you get tucked in
Looking through my database, I think I got enough BINs
When the critics label me the GOAT is when I give it up
Yo n#gg# window shopping at the set, b#tch, he ain’t spend a buck
SB, T-double H-L, you ain’t kin to us
When I get rich, the next goal gon’ be rich as f#ck
Ha-ha, yeah, that’s not far though
f#ck around and shoot him like I’m Logan, I’ll spark bro
Future bright as hell but I always had a dark soul
They just getting hip, I always knew that I was part GOAT
I’m worried ’bout the scoreboard, you looking at the shot clock
All these .30 round ARs, this a chop shop
I could f#ck the hoes but the pape always cock-block
Lil’ bro’ll lay down in yo bushes, don’t get drop shot
Gang jumping out with we let Glocks pop
Posted up on n#gg#s’ cross streets, we playing opp watch
If it’s up, boy, this sh#t forever, we do not squash
Turbans on, Drac’d up, he better pray to Allah
Ain’t no midget ’round when I say the .45 by me
Road tripping, hitting every store, f#cking slide out it
Stepping in this b#tch, might f#ck around and break the tile out it
Enterprise rental, know I’m getting every mile out it
Ex b#tch f#cked up thinking that I need hoes
Water, air, and pape, b#tch, I really only need those
Whole gang touching dog sh#t, b#tch, we team goals
f#cking off the boy, you cuffing fiend hoes
Looking like a blessing, when she see me, she gon’ make a wish
Balling out the gym for every time I couldn’t make a swish
Setting plays up for that roll, bro gon’ make the pick
Dog hoes, I’ll chase my tail ‘fore I chase a b#tch
One, two, three, four giffies outta Speedway
Five, six, seven Scats racing up the freeway
Eight, nine bands off the scams, it was free pape
Ten f#cking hoes on my dick, b#tch, I need space
Yeah, boy, you better tuck yo b#tch ‘fore we three-way her
For that cheddar, throw more hoes at him than a cheese grater
You’ll never catch my hands out, I don’t need favors
Only thing gang know is shoot, he gon’ think later
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Lyrics StanWill – Scoreboard
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