Clifford Lyrics

Biggest fucking dog around, Clifford wishing he was me

Mathematics in my pocket, bitch I pack that 3x3

He was barking like he wants some wood, but running from my tree

Sneaking through your block, I got a hundred, like a assassins creed

Ain't talking measurements are mathematic, but I got a ruler

Bob the Builder, way I'm keeping bricks and walking with my tool up

Tipping through your bushes, smelling flowers, leave you pushing tulips

Heard he snitching, so he grabbed the staples, had to close his two lips

I could make a couple loafs with all this fucking bread I'm stacking

Feel like Johnny Sins cause in my pants, I might be fucking packing

I ain't talking bout my cock, I got a glock, ain't never lacking

Money look like Jenga, get the bricks, we keep it fucking stacking

Mac got that kickback W-W-Woulda thought it's stuttering

Said he wanted smoke, but when I pulled up he was muttering

My oppas masochists I give em pain they fucking loving it,

After I finish this song I'm jerking off and dropping hits

Biggest fucking dog around, Clifford wishing he was me

Mathematics in my pocket, bitch I pack that 3x3

He was barking like he wants some wood, but running from my tree

Sneaking through your block, I got a hundred, like a assassins creed

Ain't talking measurements are mathematic, but I got a ruler

Bob the Builder, way I'm keeping bricks and walking with my tool up

Tipping through your bushes, smelling flowers, leave you pushing tulips

Heard he snitching, so he grabbed the staples, had to close his two lips

I put the dick in unpredic(k)table my bars are too despicable

You can try to find the meaning, but this shit is undepictable

He keep on talking shit, but I just say my dick is lickable

He keep on talking shit, but he got balls that are tickleable

I take off my socks, I clean em

I take off your socks, I eat em(on god)

I get in my car, I'm steering

I pull up to your house, I take your spouse and I delete em

Biggest fucking dog around, Clifford wishing he was me

Mathematics in my pocket, bitch I pack that 3x3

He was barking like he wants some wood, but running from my tree

Sneaking through your block, I got a hundred, like a assassins creed

Ain't talking measurements are mathematic, but I got a ruler

Bob the Builder, way I'm keeping bricks and walking with my tool up

Tipping through your bushes, smelling flowers, leave you pushing tulips

Heard he snitching, so he grabbed the staples, had to close his two lips