FuccBoy by J Leaf Lyrics
[Intro]
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
[Hook]
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
[Verse]
Jiggy young lord as some Fs & couple clicks
Pity young boy, tryna pullup on my clique
Wavy ass shirt with that Palace in encrypt
Straight from the bottom, nah that shit I can't invent
But we ain't got nothing to loose
So fuck it, you sneeze or you snooze
Yea bish so I pack up the booze
And your bitch just pulled up & not she gon' start me go loose
I whippin that bad & the boujee (Woo!)
Sip in the parking lot
With a pack of extra thots
Higher than a astronaut
Snatch your bitch & take your spot
Lookin' like a fuccin jock
Wo! Now she hit the spot
Gosha on my fuccin socks
Gucci right above my cock
Finger gold with the Glock
All my homies selling rocks
ForestHood I rep the block
Pouring wood & smoked a clop
Jiggy, young, shit, I hop on & let it go rip
While you pussies watch & eclipse
I'm wick & I'm lit like a bitch at the club
While she suck on my muffucin dick
[Hook]
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
[Hook]
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
[Verse]
Jiggy young lord as some Fs & couple clicks
Pity young boy, tryna pullup on my clique
Wavy ass shirt with that Palace in encrypt
Straight from the bottom, nah that shit I can't invent
But we ain't got nothing to loose
So fuck it, you sneeze or you snooze
Yea bish so I pack up the booze
And your bitch just pulled up & not she gon' start me go loose
I whippin that bad & the boujee (Woo!)
Sip in the parking lot
With a pack of extra thots
Higher than a astronaut
Snatch your bitch & take your spot
Lookin' like a fuccin jock
Wo! Now she hit the spot
Gosha on my fuccin socks
Gucci right above my cock
Finger gold with the Glock
All my homies selling rocks
ForestHood I rep the block
Pouring wood & smoked a clop
Jiggy, young, shit, I hop on & let it go rip
While you pussies watch & eclipse
I'm wick & I'm lit like a bitch at the club
While she suck on my muffucin dick
[Hook]
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!
I'm just a guy tryna chill, not a fuccboy
Designer shirt, ripped jeans, rippin' rolls royce
Man all these bitches low-key with a fuccboy
We puffin' that OG 'till we fucked boy!