Shorts Lyrics

I was on the porch

Sneakin’ shorts

We was bored

Now we bouta’ tour

Where my sword

Let em’ talk some more

We can go to war

44

Pull up on your porch

Like 1944

Damn that boy so sore

Damn that boy so sour

Cause his bitch talm’ bout

You bet’ not touch the dial

Damn this shit is wild

Damn this shit is hot

Come from where it’s hot

Come from where you not

Come from outta town

Move without a sound

Even in a crowd

We all need some crowns

We like fuck yo set

And still come correct

Foot is on they neck

Music on they head

Now they sound upset

I sound like a check

Give the beat some breath

Gave that bitch some head

Cause her bodies less

But she ain’t bodyless

She too fine for that

So we kinda match

I was on the porch

Sneakin’ shorts

Now we bouta tour

Where my sword

Let em talk some more

We can go to war

44

Pull up on ur porch

Like 1944

Damn that boy so sore

Damn that boy so sour

Damn she poppin complexion

I’m tryna see that naked

I just got me a weapon

Concealed possession

Yeah I’m riding with it

Lookin’ like I Wesley

Talking Blade bitch

I might come through and I’m vamping

I might come through for the taxes

I might come through I can’t relax, yeah

I might come through and bend her backwards

Gotta hit it with a Trojan

Damn I just really got it

If you ain’t know you know it

Riding with a fuckin’ three eight

You know it, bitch