G Lollipops Lyrics - Fashawn

[Chorus: Murs] 

Gangsta ass lollipops 

Your bitch got a sweet tooth 

[Verse 1: Murs] 

I make art, y'all niggas make hits 

I make music from the heart and what you make is shit 

Softer than the couch, step up, get knocked out 

Poppin' bottles in the club, I'm just chillin' at the house 

Playin' war games with 4 dames in your name 

Don't get high, stay fly and inside your lane 

Tame as a derriere but it gets scarier 

When you try to test the best in your area 

Aerial attacks and burials and wax 

Like an Annabelle tale, but scarier in fact 

Where the rappers at? Where the rappers at? 

They told me real rap is dead, I had to laugh at that 

How is it dead if Wu-Tang's Forever? 

Better than the worst but Murs is still better 

The Leroy and Bruce, I deployed the troops 

The devil is a liar but these boys the truth 

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[Chorus: Murs] 

Gangsta ass lollipops 

Your bitch got a sweet tooth 

[Verse 2: Fashawn] 

Okay I gave her a cavity, you hate that it had to be 

Regal Rhymesayer, Mister Laver, your majesty 

Lettin' my nuts hang like Tiffany had his weave 

While y'all toss salad, anything for a salary 

You call it a triumph, I call it a tragedy 

Casually I turn competition to casualties 

Converse with my rollo, I call him Murcielago 

One thing I'm certain if it hurtin' 'em I know 

I'm an introvert, a street kid, was never into Vert 

I'd rather pen a verse, some call it audacity 

Where did he get the nerve, usin' no blackberry 

Nigga, you gettin' curved by labels and hoes 

Layaway on your clothes, another day I suppose 

You portrayin' a rose, I would say you a troll 

And it's takin' his toll by the way human go 

I can't give a F-U-C-K what he sold 

It's Fash 

Photos 

[Chorus: Fashawn] 

Gangsta ass lollipops 

Your bitch got a sweet tooth 

[Verse 3: Prof] 

I'm in the 4-door Ford escort 

With 4 escorts with high test scores 

Indoor dro grown next door 

In class with them hickey neck sores 

That's too much sauce, that's too much sauce 

Had to turn to Pookie, Baby, that's too much sauce 

As far as I'm concerned, I don't fuck with the list price 

Rappers these days ain't been in a fist fight 

You never know homie, I could be a fraud 

This atheist chick I'm fuckin', she treat me like a god 

I'm poppin' pills in the VIP all day 

I'm an industry plant, I'm just playin' the long game 

Bitch never wrote a rhyme in my life 

And after the club, I'm gonna break your wife's hymen tonight 

Shout a couple dudes for a career in rap 

Turn up, turn up, fleek, fleek, bruh how real was that? 

Pookie 

[Chorus: Murs] 

Gangsta ass lollipops 

Your bitch got a sweet tooth