J.R. Writer - Dark Paradise lyrics

rate me

I’m hitting the trap, cooking the work

Fixing them packs that be hooking the turf

And the hood on alert, pushing your worth

And the bitches on that look as good as the first

Look at your earth, look in the world

Just send her a drink ‘cause she looking on thirsty

Put on a skirt then get put in a hearse

Put in the dirt and then pull in the shirt

I got it from here, high as the lean

I’m in the air, it’s a private affair

Why would I care? How could you dare

When I pop this sit open get the rioting gear

Writer is here, mami is all wet

And all they keep saying is papi, come here

Once I get a pair I disappear

The top of the game for the top of the year, yeah

Musical drugs, scoop you a dub

Scenes from above, get the user a buzz

I do what I does, scoop it, I’m loved

Bump into me and you blowing a hug

I got the belt, y’all on the shelf

Sick in the brain, I think I need some help

You know how I play, I get the dough

Might smoke to the face but don’t lie to yourself

I been in the league, been in the lead

Roll up on niggas like Christopher Reeve

You know how I get it, I get to the cheese

Snowing on niggas in 60 degrees

Please

You don’t know that I’m hot but you’re holding my cock like

I load every shot and get low from the cops like

It’s the high life, let me go through your high lights

I be all night, everybody at the supermarket know you don’t shop right

Your swagger is off, I laugh at your flow, back at the loft

You rappers are lost, have it your way…

I’m feverish hot, I beat up the block, we just be on the block

I know what it’s worth, fuck what you heard

You run out of work, just put me in a pod