J.R. Writer

J.R. Writer - Stomp lyrics

rate me

[Chorus:]

Dip.. bitch.. bitch.. dip

Switch.. hips.. lick.. lips

Miss.. twist.. quick.. flip

Then.. stomp.. then.. stomp

[J.R.: over Chorus]

Geah!

Let's get ready to bounce y'all

Let's do it

[Verse 1:]

I'm so low on fitteds, rose gold show was glittered

The blue was down, Juvenile, "Slow Motion" wit it

The slow flow is vivid, yo whoa hoe I live it

Oh no, throw bows, pros go low and dip it

You know how R twerk, I hit the bar first

For a bottle on a model tryin to converse

Hoe in the back tryin to get out her bra shirt

And pin a broad against the wall like some art work (whoa)

Huh, but I rolled up in a Beamer

Damn near frozen to my sneakers like I rolled up out the freezer (ice)

Plus you ain't never seen a soldier on a skeezer

That make the same chick dip it lower than Christina

Stomp, stomp, nigga front, stomp 'em out

Dip switch lick, that's what the song is about

Get ya condoms out, yes it's time to slide

Mom hot, parkin lot, girl get inside the ride

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp

Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp)

Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp

[Chorus x2]

[J.R.: over second Chorus]

Yeah, I don't think y'all understand the true meaning of this song

Let me make it a little clearer for y'all

Yo

[Verse 2:]

This that get it girl, twist and twirl move behind her

This that brush down your Gucci, Louis, new Gabbana

This that Luke baby move lady choose the grinder

This that 2 Live Crew, I need a "Hoochie Mama"

I'm just sickenin and gifted listen this Dip is the one

Six minutes, spit it, shit it, dig it, I did it for fun

I that nigga who comes, check and see ya ex and skeet

Can't remember me cause I stay on the tip of her tongue

I make the bitches bounce, pop a duck get 'em found

Cop a Dutch, split a ounce, chop and cut big amounts

I'm in the Switzerland, aqua Swiss, Swiss accounts

Without a deal still my pockets like Swiss account

I eat mobsters for lunch, feed 'em rockets and pumps

Get it shot, listen ock play 'Pac if you want

I'm Cadillac scrap that's my top in the trunk

No cover gutter brother the color's tropical punch

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3:]

I'm 'bout it 'bout it, crowd the houses and drought with some O's

About the foulest cal for cowards I crouch and reload

A patty waggy ask ya catty I style on them hoes

From nasty natty Cakalacky a mouth full of gold

I'm a nuisance you slut, get ya coupe full of guts

Front stunt, all you want, chump ain't stupid enough

He'll get hit split shit tryin to prove it to us

I sip sizzurp and keep Crunk Juice in my cup

I'm about getting straight some type houses estate

Your wife countin my cake, her nice mouth on my snake

Watch surrounded by flakes, boy and these rocks are annoyin

I can't keep 'em outta my face, uhh

Who's as icy as me, shit I ice sickle T's

It's nothing for the stunt and turn your wife to a ski

My chain hang and man she delighted to see

A hundred karats, faggot wrist full of vitamin D

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp

Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp)

Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp

[Chorus x2]

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