Montana Of 300 - Dip-n-sauce lyrics

Shawty see this sauce, I guess that's why she wanna dip though I'm who these b**hes feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle Hope the way I drip these haters don't think I'm a lick though I can't afford to slip that's why I'm grippin' on my pistol I'm riding with that four-oh, oh-yeah-yeah-yeah I might take your hoe-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Pedal to the floor-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Racing to that dough-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Headed to them dollar signs Big ol' 40 on my side Whippin', grippin', on her thighs Shawty blow me while I drive I'm connected, that's my word like written in cursive Gucci shades, lookin' clean up in them gla**es, dish detergent I'm Scott Hall and I'm Curt Hennig Clothes is dripping, Mr. Perfect b**h, I'm splurging, bad b**h slurping, I hope I don't get to swervin' (woo) I be gettin' brain while I'm switchin' lanes Feelin' like the rain, drip on everything I'm flyer than a plane, he think sh** a game He must wanna feel the rain like he Eddie Cane You could get it, pistol grippin', I ain't slippin' Ghost Busters, I was trappin', all them n***as called me Winston b**h, I am of no religion, but my Louboutins are Christian Got that bag, you know I'm drippin' When I tee up, it ain't Lipton Shawty see this sauce, I guess that's why she wanna dip though I'm who these b**hes feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle Hope the way I drip these haters don't think I'm a lick though I can't afford to slip that's why I'm grippin' on my pistol I'm riding with that four-oh, oh-yeah-yeah-yeah I might take your hoe-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Pedal to the floor-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Racing to that dough-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Girl, put your two feet up Slide up in that p**y with like two fingers and make it juicier She throwin' deuces up She left her ex and met the executioner I got them other n***as faded like a Boosie cut Girl, we gon give 'em hell like they was Lucifer, now cut the music It's just the two of us and my 40 cal, you know it move with us Don't ruin my money, all she wanna do is f** Just tell your ex he better keep it cool because I will shoot sh** up She said God sent the male of her dreams, but I'm just racing to that door like the bell from the ring She said she can't wait til we get home to get this dick though Chokeslam a b**h up on a bed, I think I'm Big Show Pull her back and co*k it, now she bustin' like my pistol Right after that we get dough, you know how this sh** go Shawty see this sauce, I guess that's why she wanna dip though I'm who these b**hes feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle Hope the way I drip these haters don't think I'm a lick though I can't afford to slip that's why I'm grippin' on my pistol I'm riding with that four-oh, oh-yeah-yeah-yeah I might take your hoe-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Pedal to the floor-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah Racing to that dough-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah