Dog shit
Raw shit
Whoa ni
Serve a lot entertainment
Real trap shit
Check it
Bags in niggas hatin but its all gravy
I got a band for every f*ck nigga tryna play me
Last time I checked I been the goat if im not mistaken
On them Percocet thirties gettin geeked lately
F*cked a thousand some hoes made three babies
Compare these niggas to some pampers cuz they keep changin
She say doggy you the realest I say appreciate it
Let me slide one time ima keep skatin
Vacant sign on the house but it's not vacant
We in this bitch gas baggin and pot scrapin
Real money go getter I ain't got patience
I cannot quit shit never stopped chasin
Slashin prices on them pillows but im not Jason
He lived his life like grand theft auto and he got wasted
She sell pussy for the low but I'm not payin
Plus you stay on section eight hoe you basic
Dope sales off a metro
Im in that water doin the mudda f*ckin breast stroke
Straight out the pickle jar it's greener than a gecko
Bitch make that booty clap yeah hear the echo
And I ain't lookin for no bangers I got several
Super stupid coogi look like fruity pebbles
Encrusted diamonds you could see em through the bezel
Trap life bmx drug pedal
Gimme head gimme throat gimme suction
Lay up on ya back open ya legs im bout it punch it
Im a red head a hot boy hot summer
She got that super soaker stupid wet fresh ocean
She got that pussy power like some weed that bitch potent
Let me dive in it ima hit it if its clean
Eat the pussy good lamb chops mashed potatoes with the gravy
Ima big boy I aint no little boy baby
Got a big chopper long extended with the curve
Aint no lying aint no capping that bullshit for the birds
If ya man aint doing right come over to jigga land
Throw that ass back and do it with no hands
Whoa and there ya have it
My boy rob da dog
Chickachickachicaka da game spitta
Locked in
I Cport savannah
We in this bitch nigga
We comin hard two thousand twenty four
Every year our year twenty for seven
Three sixty five my nigga we aint stopping
We keep going dog keep the ball rolling
All gas no brakes nigga
Huh Huh its gsm til the death of me
It's All Gravy (feat. Jigga J Da Gamespitta) Video (MV)
Rob Da Dog - It's All Gravy (feat. Jigga J Da Gamespitta) Lyrics
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If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Dog shit
Raw shit
Whoa ni
Serve a lot entertainment
Real trap shit
Check it
Bags in niggas hatin but its all gravy
I got a band for every f*ck nigga tryna play me
Last time I checked I been the goat if im not mistaken
On them Percocet thirties gettin geeked lately
F*cked a thousand some hoes made three babies
Compare these niggas to some pampers cuz they keep changin
She say doggy you the realest I say appreciate it
Let me slide one time ima keep skatin
Vacant sign on the house but it's not vacant
We in this bitch gas baggin and pot scrapin
Real money go getter I ain't got patience
I cannot quit shit never stopped chasin
Slashin prices on them pillows but im not Jason
He lived his life like grand theft auto and he got wasted
She sell pussy for the low but I'm not payin
Plus you stay on section eight hoe you basic
Dope sales off a metro
Im in that water doin the mudda f*ckin breast stroke
Straight out the pickle jar it's greener than a gecko
Bitch make that booty clap yeah hear the echo
And I ain't lookin for no bangers I got several
Super stupid coogi look like fruity pebbles
Encrusted diamonds you could see em through the bezel
Trap life bmx drug pedal
Gimme head gimme throat gimme suction
Lay up on ya back open ya legs im bout it punch it
Im a red head a hot boy hot summer
She got that super soaker stupid wet fresh ocean
She got that pussy power like some weed that bitch potent
Let me dive in it ima hit it if its clean
Eat the pussy good lamb chops mashed potatoes with the gravy
Ima big boy I aint no little boy baby
Got a big chopper long extended with the curve
Aint no lying aint no capping that bullshit for the birds
If ya man aint doing right come over to jigga land
Throw that ass back and do it with no hands
Whoa and there ya have it
My boy rob da dog
Chickachickachicaka da game spitta
Locked in
I Cport savannah
We in this bitch nigga
We comin hard two thousand twenty four
Every year our year twenty for seven
Three sixty five my nigga we aint stopping
We keep going dog keep the ball rolling
All gas no brakes nigga
Huh Huh its gsm til the death of me
Raw shit
Whoa ni
Serve a lot entertainment
Real trap shit
Check it
Bags in niggas hatin but its all gravy
I got a band for every f*ck nigga tryna play me
Last time I checked I been the goat if im not mistaken
On them Percocet thirties gettin geeked lately
F*cked a thousand some hoes made three babies
Compare these niggas to some pampers cuz they keep changin
She say doggy you the realest I say appreciate it
Let me slide one time ima keep skatin
Vacant sign on the house but it's not vacant
We in this bitch gas baggin and pot scrapin
Real money go getter I ain't got patience
I cannot quit shit never stopped chasin
Slashin prices on them pillows but im not Jason
He lived his life like grand theft auto and he got wasted
She sell pussy for the low but I'm not payin
Plus you stay on section eight hoe you basic
Dope sales off a metro
Im in that water doin the mudda f*ckin breast stroke
Straight out the pickle jar it's greener than a gecko
Bitch make that booty clap yeah hear the echo
And I ain't lookin for no bangers I got several
Super stupid coogi look like fruity pebbles
Encrusted diamonds you could see em through the bezel
Trap life bmx drug pedal
Gimme head gimme throat gimme suction
Lay up on ya back open ya legs im bout it punch it
Im a red head a hot boy hot summer
She got that super soaker stupid wet fresh ocean
She got that pussy power like some weed that bitch potent
Let me dive in it ima hit it if its clean
Eat the pussy good lamb chops mashed potatoes with the gravy
Ima big boy I aint no little boy baby
Got a big chopper long extended with the curve
Aint no lying aint no capping that bullshit for the birds
If ya man aint doing right come over to jigga land
Throw that ass back and do it with no hands
Whoa and there ya have it
My boy rob da dog
Chickachickachicaka da game spitta
Locked in
I Cport savannah
We in this bitch nigga
We comin hard two thousand twenty four
Every year our year twenty for seven
Three sixty five my nigga we aint stopping
We keep going dog keep the ball rolling
All gas no brakes nigga
Huh Huh its gsm til the death of me
Writer: Robert Coleman
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid