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JPEGMAFIA - Puff Daddy Lyrics



JPEGMAFIA - Puff Daddy Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Kenny Beats ]

You think you know me?
Can you hear me? Hi
I got nothing, I'm a straight bitch
Whoa Kenny
Huh, huh, incredible

Uh, big whips, big guns (whoa)
No cash, no funds (hoe)
Hurry up, it's done (it's done)
You are all my sons (my sons)
We don't claim you bums
This shit for the scum

I'm a pop act (huh)
I don't smoke sesh (nah)
I don't pack heat (huh)
I don't even make no beats (wow, damn)
I don't even got no gun, hoe, I'm like 28 (wow)
Kimber in my bag, too much on my plate
Look I'm tactless (ah) cash in a mattress (uh)
Three shots a hat trick (damn Peggy)
Blood on the canvas (shit, shit)
Heard your nigga a college boy
Caught him on campus
Hit that nigga in Eastern Time
He died in Central Standard
Hm, wow

Incredible (why?)
Big whips, big guns (whoa)
No cash, no funds
Hurry up, it's done (it's done)
You are all my sons (my sons)
We don't claim you bums
This shit for the scum, uh

I got no life
I got no life (no)
Can't switch up my code (nah)
Morale be too low
AK, SK (grrah)
Gat spit like KA (huh)
Hurry up, relay
Bitch, no face, no case (it's nasty)
F*ck 'bout what you moving (nah)
I'm on your couch like Rick Rubin
All of these cops, nigga, who shooting?
Bitch, we strapped like Duke Nukem (damn Peggy)
Pull up with the trey and we ain't hooping
Shoot you in the face, boy, go guard it
Fake rappers (huh), new targets (ah)
All of your songs got no market (nasty)

Bitch (niggard)
Big whips, big guns (whoa)
No cash, no funds
Hurry up, it's done (it's done)
You are all my sons (my sons)
We don't claim you bums
This shit for the scum, uh

Huh
Take that, take that, take that
Can't stop, won't stop
9-6 to millennium, forever
Let's go
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




You think you know me?
Can you hear me? Hi
I got nothing, I'm a straight bitch
Whoa Kenny
Huh, huh, incredible

Uh, big whips, big guns (whoa)
No cash, no funds (hoe)
Hurry up, it's done (it's done)
You are all my sons (my sons)
We don't claim you bums
This shit for the scum

I'm a pop act (huh)
I don't smoke sesh (nah)
I don't pack heat (huh)
I don't even make no beats (wow, damn)
I don't even got no gun, hoe, I'm like 28 (wow)
Kimber in my bag, too much on my plate
Look I'm tactless (ah) cash in a mattress (uh)
Three shots a hat trick (damn Peggy)
Blood on the canvas (shit, shit)
Heard your nigga a college boy
Caught him on campus
Hit that nigga in Eastern Time
He died in Central Standard
Hm, wow

Incredible (why?)
Big whips, big guns (whoa)
No cash, no funds
Hurry up, it's done (it's done)
You are all my sons (my sons)
We don't claim you bums
This shit for the scum, uh

I got no life
I got no life (no)
Can't switch up my code (nah)
Morale be too low
AK, SK (grrah)
Gat spit like KA (huh)
Hurry up, relay
Bitch, no face, no case (it's nasty)
F*ck 'bout what you moving (nah)
I'm on your couch like Rick Rubin
All of these cops, nigga, who shooting?
Bitch, we strapped like Duke Nukem (damn Peggy)
Pull up with the trey and we ain't hooping
Shoot you in the face, boy, go guard it
Fake rappers (huh), new targets (ah)
All of your songs got no market (nasty)

Bitch (niggard)
Big whips, big guns (whoa)
No cash, no funds
Hurry up, it's done (it's done)
You are all my sons (my sons)
We don't claim you bums
This shit for the scum, uh

Huh
Take that, take that, take that
Can't stop, won't stop
9-6 to millennium, forever
Let's go
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Barrington Devaughn Hendricks, Kenneth Charles III Blume
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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