Starlito – Clap For Him

Singers: Starlito
song cover

Lyrics Starlito – Clap For Him


I’m down for the cause, but you shouldn’t have to ask that
Fuckin’ with the squad will get that ass clapped
You niggas fell off, like Owen Hart’s last match

Fake ass rappers with all of they trap rap
I really wish you’d hush it
Shut the fuck up, you ain’t talking bout nothin’
My niggas’ll clap for me, like trouble, trouble they ALL bustin’
Some of ’em locked up, some fresh out cause they already done it
(Gun Sounds)

Got this 30-round, there’s 5 of yall, so that’s 6 a piece
But I bet the charges won’t stick, like my Swisher Sweets
It’s my birthday, let’s smoke this whole Christmas tree
9 with the red dot, let’s party like my nigga free (FREE RED DOT!)
So go an make a song ’bout what you NOT gon’do
And if you play me wrong I’ll bring them shots to you
Two matching Glock 9s and that chopper too
Got my goonies suiting up like it’s private school
Clap-on, clap-off lights out, night night bitch
Wonder what you gon’ do now,you don’t have me to write your shit
I booked like 7 shows and went and iced my wrist
Then bought a pound of OG kush, it’s just the life I live
I might of fucked her twice but I don’t like the bitch
Air Force fly, we got mutant straps, we on that Nike shit
You rappin’ and you can’t afford a car?
Get a job; petty, broke bitch, we know who you are
Wait, we know who you ain’t, just left out the bank
Double shot to the back of yo’ head make that ass plank
Smoke ’til I faint, drink ’til I c-ain’t

Just say my name, that’s just like playing with my aim, BANG
Big 5-7 SN and it’s light grey
When I see him, I’m gon’ pop that pussy, like my escape date
My Dickies full of racks, I think I’m Mike J
Cook-Up Boss done broke the buttons on my microwave
I’m on my Hustleman, that’s Remy with the Rose’
And it’s just money, baby; at least that’s what Po’ say
Love Life Live Large, Marty say it’s on the way
Fuck wit us and you ain’t keep it real, well that was yo’ mistake
My homie Lil E he wheelchair grindin, but he can put you on yo’ feet
Cashville waiting on that Grind Hard 3
And these niggas know they can’t fuck wit me
1.2, I heard they cut the check?
Nah I was twitter-jacked
Lil shit head bitch run and tell em that
Who I signed wit? I ain’t gon’ tell em yet
Got a million on star? No thank you, where the rest of it at?
Grind Hard’s my entity, 60-thousand twenty tees
Separation anxiety but no issues with dependency
Niggas with these ho tendencies, stay out of my business please
Niggas with these ho tendencies, stay out of my business PLEASE
Got a movie coming that I wrote myself
For the last 12 months I had nobody help
No radio song when I put myself on, that’s why I be yellin Grind Hard til my death

Fuck y’all, not you, I mean all of y’all
Fuck y’all, not you, I mean all of y’all