Lyrics
Told her, “Don’t wait for me”, your time is up
better save it please, I just ran up me a eighty piece (ayy)
She on her knees suckin’ dick like she pray to me
Doggin’ that bitch ’til her face full of Maybelline
In my cup, maybe it’s lean, we don’t do no green
Left wrist on Billie Jean, Billie Jean, Billie Jean
Draft Day, he poppin’, no, Sante ain’t stoppin’
He need all his profits, some say that he cocky
I know that he got it, he flew a bitch out from the tropics
Exotic, I’m smokin’, Supreme, had to box it
458 ‘Rari take off like rockets
Wide body kit like Buffie the Body
All-white Maybach, I nicknamed it Scotty 2 hotty (woo)
My Mexican bitch treat me like Liberace (yeah)
I threw twenty thousand on twenty-five strangers
Being raised by QC prepared me for the danger (hey)
My stick got a scope like a Texas park ranger
I look up to Mom and Mom only
I ran up a sack in some orange grey Saucony’s
My bitches give love, but I’m still feelin’ lonely
My heart got a space the same size as a counter
No money can fill it, I’m hot as a skillet (hot)
These rappers two-faced, it’s so bad I could peel it
And see they true colors, I cut every finger for all of my bruhs
I’ll hop off the plane backwards wrapped in some Louis V covers
Head first in the gutter (yeah)
If it’s for the guap, fettucine
Might cop a new truck, cream like alfredo linguini
These new niggas weenies
The year is ’06 with my black Bapesta beanie
She rub on my groin like there might be a genie
I can’t take a bad dressin’ bitch to my mama
I might take the bitch from the hood to Bahamas
Show her ’bout the world, this bitch here ain’t even my girl (yeah)
I pass the bitch off, let the homie go handle it (yeah)
Big pointer stones ’round my neck light the room like a candle lit (boom)
Don’t get too close, 762’s knock off your shoulder, dismantle it
Masked up, no Rip Hamilton (yeah, brrt), you niggas squares like Carlton
I’m in Bel-Air (yeah) posted at Nobu, inside the whip, orange like Goku
Lil’ boy, I done told you, I been hit the ho
that’s old news, these niggas be cappin’, no Pro Tools
Twenty-two, bitch, and I look like a mogul (yeah)
Got more money than your whole family tree (yeah, yeah)
Double that shit, and you still won’t reach me (bitch)
You in the nosebleeds, I sit in floor seats
Right where the coach at, but you can’t coach me
Draft Day been on that, sound like Kobe
Please name a nigga who really can stop me
Can’t no one stop you, you next like the runner-up
Niggas stay flexin’, they bitch, I’ma look her up
Hook her up, dick her down, got a new stick
Nine-mil’ bullets and thirty rounds, ready to hunt a clown
I been that nigga since, uh, I can’t remember
Since when? Wintertime, man, I remember December
Wore a dress, now they tryna slander my gender
My bitch was on set lookin’ mighty tender (woo)
So fuck what they talkin’ ’bout, tell ’em to watch they mouth
‘Fore I get outta body (yeah), and I knock ’em out
I bought twelve different whips like it’s nothin’ new
I keep blicks on the hip like they stuck with glue
I drop bombs on a bitch, I’m not DJ Clue (boom)
My niggas bangin’ red, it’s the way of life (brrt)
We buyin’ guns like it’s illegal, on the ninth
Fuckin’ my Asian, she makin’ me jasmine rice (go)
I took a whole lotta slander from fuck niggas, broke niggas
Fuck all of that, I’m the prototype
Grabbin’ the wheel, I don’t give a fuck (skrrt)
Nigga want smoke, I hope that it’s up
Aimin’ the stick at the square like the game with the duck
Nigga gon’ knuck if you buck (Brr)
I got like ten different watches I never wear
My Louis mono, not no Damier (yeah)
Had the penthouse with three different concierge (yeah)
I know all of my haters cannot compare (yeah)
[Lyrics] Lil Yachty – Demon Time (ft Draft Day) Lyrics
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