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Pop Smoke - Shoot For The Stars Aim For The Moon (Deluxe) Album Lyrics



Pop Smoke - Shoot For The Stars Aim For The Moon (Deluxe) Lyrics






Bad Bitch from Tokyo (Intro)

Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah (this is a Melo beat)
Yeah, yeah

Bad bitch from Tokyo (oh), drip from Italy (oh)
Smokin' Runtz in Rome (oh), got it for eight a piece (oh-oh)
Christian Dior (Christian Dior), big twenty-twos (oh)
Big thirty-eight (oh), don't tote no twenty-twos (oh-oh)
Wait, I'm goin' state to state (look)
I look my killer in his eyes, yeah, I'm talkin' face-to-face
My nigga killer caught a body, took it to trial and beat the case
My nigga walked out of court, ha, then hopped in a Wraith

Hopped in a Wraith, yeah (skrrt)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Barakah Jackson
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Aim for the Moon

[ Featuring Quavo ]

(Yeah) shoot for the stars (haha, woo), aim for the moon
You ain't cool (I'm feelin' treeshy), 'til I say you woo
Yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah, yeah)
Yeah, yeah (oh), yeah, yeah (I'm on Venus)
Yeah, yeah, yeah (that's why I say woo)
Yeah, yeah, are you dumb? Look (ooh)

You don't know what you started, I pop a perc', go retarded (oh)
I got the drip, it came straight from the faucet
Mr. Dior-Dior, they know where it started, yeah (oh)
She wanna Netflix and chill, f*ck off the pill
Go in the store, shop at Dior (oh)
Come to my crib, take all my shirts
Pop all my percs and sleep in my drawers
You talkin' too much, baby, pour up a four
We both bust a nut, now leave me alone
When we in Miami, we stay at the Mondrian (oh)
We pull up to LIV in the Cullinan
Welcome her to the party
The after party's after party, then party again (oh)
A hunnid bitches, hardly any men (oh)
In my room is where the party began
Then take a flight to Bora Bora, it's time to catch a tan, look (woo)
It's still free all my niggas that's sentenced, stuck up in the jail (free all my niggas, yeah)
I could show you how to vibe, but I can't be ya man (can't be ya man)
Uh-huh (no, no, no, yeah)

Shoot for the stars (shoot, shoot, shoot)
Aim for the moon (the moon)
You ain't cool (you ain't cool)
'Til I say you cool
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah (skrrt-skrrt), yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah (skrrt-skrrt), yeah, yeah (yeah, yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah (skrrt-skrrt), yeah, yeah

Yeah, Pop Smoke the woo (Pop)
I play with the check and it's blue (blue)
We mobbin' and tied, no shoe (tie)
You play with the group, we gon' shoot (shoot)
He in Dior, I'm in Prada (Prada)
We rich, we came from the bottom (rich)
I'm a Migo, I feel like a doctor (Migo)
Goin' surgical with the new chopper (grrah)
Five hundred thousand, I'm in flex mode (yeah)
We got all the work, we make your trap close (trap)
Gang havin' loyalty, we ten toes (ten)
Nah, nobody givin' up, why would the gang fold? (Ooh)
We outside, we totin' them bangers, we not shootin' at strangers (we outside)
Say what you wanna say, long as it ain't us 'cause my niggas gon' hang ya (grrah)
Look at them young niggas goin' crazy-crazy, man, them niggas too dangerous (crazy)
We gonna make 'em famous, the beautiful country got stars and bangers (stars)

Shoot for the stars
Aim for the moon
You ain't cool
'Til I say you cool

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Daniel Delevto, Dylan Krell, Ebony Naomi Oshunrinde, Quavious Keyate Marshall, Sadiki Forbes, Tyrone Penman
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






For the Night

[ Featuring Lil Baby, DaBaby ]

(CashmoneyAP)
Get 'em, get 'em, oh
Oh (I'm tryna f*ckin' get 'em)
Oh (I'm tryna f*ckin' get 'em)
Oh, oh (get 'em)
Oh (gettin' big, goin' up)
Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh
Oh, oh, oh

If I tell you once, won't tell you twice, yeah
I'm a thief in the night (thief in the night)

I did some wrong (oh, oh), but I'm always right (oh, oh)
Said I know how to shoot (oh, oh) and I know how to fight
If I tell you once, won't tell you twice
I'm real discreet, like a thief in the night (look)

If I call you bae, you bae for the day
Or a bae for the night, you not my wife
She want a killer to f*ck all night
I wanna f*ck on a thot, gimme head all night
AP, big rocks, in the hood with the 'Rillas
5K on the dinner, bring three hundred thou' to the dealer

I did some wrong (oh, oh), but I'm always right (oh, oh)
Said I know how to shoot (oh, oh) and I know how to fight
If I tell you once, won't tell you twice
I'm real discreet, like a thief in the night (Baby)

I'm rich but I'm ridin', I'm low on exotic
I'm 'bout to fly out and go get me some
Nothin' ain't seen, all this money on me
Hunnid racks in the bag, that's a honey bun
Baby OG, I been runnin' these streets
Got the game from Lashawn, I'm my mama's son
Learned 'bout the triple cross when I was young
And I know I ain't goin' so I keep a gun
I flew to Paris just to buy some Dior
She beggin' for attention, I don't see her
C.I.P Pop, I wish that you could see us
Million cash plus whenever I go re-up
I got some niggas in the street, won't beat me
I got the industry tryna be me
I just go Ray Charles, they can't see me
I'm in a Rolls Royce with a RiRi

I did some wrong (oh, oh), but I'm always right (oh, oh)
Said I know how to shoot (oh, oh) and I know how to fight
If I tell you once, won't tell you twice
I'm real discreet, like a thief in the night

Yeah, like a thief in the night (thief)
I pull up, give her D for the night (uh-huh)
Tryna f*ck in the V, it's aight (let's f*ck)
We can't f*ck up my seats 'cause they white (watch my seats, watch my motherf*ckin' seats)
I'm livin' like "Thriller," I only come out at the night time
She don't f*ck with liquor, don't like bein' tipsy
She don't do the Henny, just white wine (what she do?)
Pop the cork on some new Pinot Grigio (yeah)
I pull up in the Porsche wit' a freaky ho (zoom)
Park the Porsche and pull up in a Lambo
I hop out, Major Payne, rockin' camo (yessir)
Think she cute, make her f*ck, let her man go (she cute)
Like to shoot, light you up, bitch, I'm Rambo
Cuban link full of rocks, it's a choker (oh)
Rest in peace to the Pop, make me smoke ya

I did some wrong (oh, oh), but I'm always right (oh, oh)
Said I know how to shoot (oh, oh) and I know how to fight
If I tell you once, won't tell you twice
I'm real discreet, like a thief in the night
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Alex Petit, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Christoffer Marcussen, Daniel Moras Raab, Dominique Jones, Jonathan Lyndale Kirk
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






44 BullDog

Uh, ha

Brodie gon' what?
Brodie gon' (woo)
Brodie gon' what?
Brodie gon' (woo)
Brodie gon' get that, get that
Brodie gon' brrt that, brrt that
Brodie gon' what?
Brodie gon' (woo)
Brodie gon' what?
Brodie gon' (woo)
Brodie gon' brrt that, brrt that
Brodie gon' get that, get that
Brodie gon' what?
Brodie gon' (woo)
Brodie gon' what?
Brodie gon' (woo)
Brodie gon' (grrt)

.44 bulldog, make 'em get back (bah)
I ain't with the talk or the chit chat (uh-huh)
All you hatin' ass niggas better sit back (boom)
Or y'all gon' be the next one to get they shit snatched (boom, boom)
Free Milly Gz out the cage, he was buckin' (grrt)
I need the alc' 'cause I'm allergic to the cuffin' (oh)
And I ain't with the talk or discussions (look)
Know some niggas that'll shoot you for nothin' (grrt)

I call Dread, that's the new Tom Brady
Niggas gettin' no bread 'cause they lazy (lazy)
Let me tell ya why the opp niggas hate me (why they hate?)
'Cause all the opp niggas know I be flexin' (flexin')
And I did fifteen on my check-ins (uh)
And it's big Louboutin when I'm steppin' (steppin')
And it's big .38 for the weapon (grrt)
Or I call J.R. with the Wesson (grrt-bah)
They call Trav, call me like Filayo (Filayo)
Niggas know you got the apes on the payroll
Niggas slide through ya block with a Draco (bah)
Nigga nothin' don't move if I say no (nah)
Dunk on that nigga, Tatum (woo)
All of y'all niggas, Dave 'em (uh-huh)
Stay with the Zoes, Haitians (woo, grrt-bah)
Big .23, sanctioned (okay)

.44 bulldog, make 'em get back (bah, grrt)
I ain't with the talk or the chit chat (brrt)
All you hatin' ass niggas better sit back (sit back)
Or y'all gon' be the next one to get they shit snatched
Free Milly Gz out the cage, he was buckin' (uh-huh)
I need the alc' 'cause I'm allergic to the cuffin' (bah)
And I ain't with the talk or discussions (uh-huh)
Know some niggas that'll shoot you for nothin' (grrt)

Sun out (boom), gun out (boom)
Run down, what now? (Bah)
Flossy, the jungle the playground (bah)
Back out the chop, we gon' spray rounds (bah)
Big Fendi bag, no Sprayground (boom)
Aim for your head, we don't spray ground (uh-huh)
Everybody know that I'm GG (uh)
I'm still in the hood, smokin' headlight (brrt)
Do you know the '09 to the 2T? (Bah)
Posted in the Floss, they be wildin' (bah)
Brodie got locked for the hammer (woo)
Free Rock, get off the island (boom)
'09 to the Glock like dem wayz (dem wayz)
And I keep a chop like sensei (uh)
Niggas move hot, I ain't say nothin' (bah)
'Cause I'ma lay low 'til that day come (woo)

.44 bulldog, make 'em get back (get back)
I ain't with the talk or the chit chat (bah)
All you hatin' ass niggas better sit back (bah)
Or you gon' be the next one to get they shit snatched (grrt)
Free Milly Gz out the cage, he was buckin' (bah)
I need the alc' 'cause I'm allergic to the cuffin' (boom)
And I ain't with the talk or discussions (uh-huh)
Know some niggas that'll shoot you for nothin' (woo)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, David Gbeminiyi, Fabian Mora
Copyright: Lyrics © Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Gangstas

Them niggas gotta hear what the f*ck I'm talkin' 'bout (woo, woo)
(I be in New York)
Feel me, Lil' Z?
On your set with some real shit, nigga (I be in New York with the gangsters)
(Swirv)
I don't want none of that extra loud shit
This ain't none of that rainbow hair shit
Know what I'm sayin'? (I be in New York with the gangsters)
This the real streets shit, yeah, nigga (I be in New York with the gangsters)
F*ckin' voice of the streets, man
It's like Jesus walkin' (oozin' automatics)
More like Christopher Walking, man (I be with the straights and the apes)
Y'all know what's up (talkin' stone to stone)
(Runnin' backs, we don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout it)
Free all my niggas, free all the streets

I be in New York with the gangsters
Know a nigga that'll shoot you for a 'Tander (grrt)
If my opps is chillin' in the foreign (bah)
Then my niggas shootin' up the Phantom (bah, bah, bah)
I be in New York with the gangsters (woo)
Know a nigga that'll shoot you for a 'Tander (bah)
If my opps is chillin' in the foreign (you lackin' ass niggas)
Then my niggas shootin' up the Phantom (grrt)

.44 got a kickback (bah)
Click-clack, get back (bah)
Shots at your rib pack (grrt)
Or you can get chin checked (woo)
Them twirlin' niggas actin' up (actin' up)
So niggas packed him up (pack him up)
Brazy was actin' tough (three)
'Til niggas slapped him up (pussy)
Pop Smoke on top (haha)
Niggas mad as f*ck (mad)
Six by six, big Benz on my wrist (grrt)
If you don't got your nails done, you are not it (woo)
Automatically on the blocked list (blocked, bitch)
Niggas talkin' 'bout they guns (guns), but never shot shit (cap)
Might as well put a cap on it, all over with a chopstick (pussy)
Run up and I'm brandin' them, take a nigga shoppin' (bitch)
Reach and I'm branchin' it 'cause I don't know who watchin' (I'm on point)
It's a ginger ale and Henny day, eased up on the crème brûlée (hahaha)
.38's on the block (block), a nigga won't hesitate (bah)
Had to move these bitches up (move up) 'cause they was in the way
I wouldn't want them to get shot by an enemy

I be in New York with the gangsters (and what's up?)
Know a nigga that'll shoot you for a 'Tander (grrt)
If my opps is chillin' in the foreign (bah)
Then my niggas shootin' up the Phantom (bah, bah, bah)
I be in New York with the gangsters (woo)
Know a nigga that'll shoot you for a 'Tander (bah)
If my opps is is chillin' in the foreign (you lackin' ass niggas)
Then my niggas shootin' up the Phantom (grrt)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Alex Petit, Bashar Jackson, Ellis Newton
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Yea Yea

(Yeah) uh-huh, uh-huh
(Yeah) uh, uh, uh-huh
Yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, look

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Let me tell you why the opp niggas hate me (hate me)
'Cause I rock the nation, Jay-Z (Jay-Z)
Baby, baby (baby)
Baby, how the f*ck can you play me? Ah (play me)
Walk with it, never walk without it (oh)
Shoot a nigga, never talk about it (shoot)
Sold out shows, yeah we tee'd up (tee'd up)
Christian Dior for the sneaker (sneakers)
And it's 10k for the feature (feature)
Take your bitch home, I eat her (I eat her)
Wanna play games? Got the heat and the rocket
Say the wrong thing, I'ma pop it (pop it)
I'm a big dog, you ain't know though (know though)
Gunshot, forward (forward)
Headshot, lower (lower)
I shoot a nigga then roll up (roll up)
Rollie on my wrist, gun up on my hip (gun up on my hip)
Please don't say the wrong thing
You could get (could get) hit (hit)
I f*ck with the bloods but I'm rip, huh (no shit)
I'm big 092, nigga, Woo, huh (Woo)
Know I had the guns in the school (in the school)
Lil' nigga, don't act like a fool (fool)
I leave that pussy wet, like a pool (pool)

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Everything's signed, it's sealed
Baby girl, let me know if your love is real
Is it real? Is it real?
'Cause if it ain't, I gotta go (go)
These are things I gotta know (know)
Walk outside, I keep a pole (pole)
I've been wildin' on the roads (yeah, yeah)
Did 20k all in a day (day)
Put some money in the safe (in the safe)
Gave five to my lawyer (oh)
Then I went and backed the Wraith (the Wraith)
Catch a body out the Tesla (oh)
Know the Woo's do it better (ooh)
If I don't got it, I'ma take it (take it)
'Cause a nigga gotta eat (eat)
This my life, no fakin' (no)
Yeah, I'm really in the streets (yeah, I'm really in the streets)
All these pussy niggas hatin'
I sit back and sip a tea (sip a tea)
I order steak on my lobster (ooh)
Bon appétit (bon appétit)
I drop 50k off to Sam (Sam)
Patek Philippe

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, oh, oh-oh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Akyol Hakan, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Joseph Boyden
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Creature

[ Featuring Swae Lee ]

Shoutout 808Melo (ooh)
Gang (ooh)
Yeah (ooh) (woo)
(Shut this shit down)
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah

Run up on it (ooh), you know I'm on it (ooh)
The drank on me (ooh), draggin' my feet (ooh)
Hop in that whip (ooh), I'm 'bout to see you (ooh)
I'm like a creature (ooh), I'm on the creep (ooh)

If I don't get all of my chips, I can't leave just yet (yeah)
Get that top, then I dip, I'ma leave her wet (yeah)
I put plates on my neck, like tectonics (ooh)
I put plates on my whip, it's a rocket ship (rocket)
Sip drank, on hypnotic (ayy)
You know our lil' nigga gon' pop shit (ooh)
Louis my body (ayy)
That be why shawty is clockin' me, clockin' me (ooh)
I don't owe no apology
I'm everywhere that the dollar be, dollar be (ooh)
I don't owe no apology
I'm gettin' the money, you know my philosophy (ooh)

Look, bend her over, blow her back out (bow)
Bend her over, pull her tracks out (bow)
She know the Woo make her tap out (woo)
I really live what I rap 'bout (woo)
I remember them days in the trap house
Yeah, it got real in the trap house
I went and did some time in the jail
Because I'd rather take the fast route (grrt, grrt, bow)
If you wanna make bets then I'm open up TD
She like papi all I got is Cedie
I'm like f*ck it, come give me head (woo)
I back out and nut on her titty
Ayy, huh, she say I'm a dog, so I'm chasin' her kitty (woo)
Light up the smoke like a Dutch in the city
I keep two in the head, we gon' catch him like Ricky (uh)
Man down
Throw the piece to my bro, that's a hand down (brrt, brrt)
Poppin' shit on the lot, make him camp out
He was toilin' back then, he a fan now (woo)
I keep nothin' but blues in these pants now (woo)
Rubber band for these racks and these bands now (blues)
We keep sticks and these drums, like a band now (grrt)
My new bitch exotic (exotic)
My new bitch exotic (exotic)
You ain't poppin', stop it (nah)
Fresh as f*ck, no stylist (no stylist, uh)
Niggas stealin' styles, jackin', jockin' (jockin')
This watch don't do tick tockin' (nah)
Niggas know how we rockin' (woo)
20K for Amiri's and that's for the jeans (that's for the jeans)
The money was dirty, I got into rapping and now this shit clean (now this shit clean)
(Woo, woo) now I'm on the scene (now I'm on the scene)
I made her tap out, I know that this dick turned the bitch to a fiend

Run up on it (ooh), you know I'm on it (ooh)
The drank on me (ooh), draggin' my feet (ooh)
Hop in that whip (ooh), I'm 'bout to see you (ooh)
I'm like a creature (ooh), I'm on the creep (ooh)
You know I'm on it (ooh)
The drank on me (ooh), draggin' my feet (ooh)
Hop in that whip (ooh), I'm 'bout to see you (ooh)
I'm like a creature (ooh), I'm on the creep (ooh)

We livin' life, don't panic
She love the life, don't panic
Before the grave, turn the money to ashes
I just f*cked on an actress (yeah)
Muthaf*ckas start scattering
All the paper start to scatter (hey)
I be doin' all that cashin' (yeah)
I be doin' all that bashin' (ayy)

Run up on it (ooh), you know I'm on it (ooh)
The drank on me (ooh), draggin' my feet (ooh)
Hop in that whip (ooh), I'm 'bout to see you (ooh)
I'm like a creature (ooh), I'm on the creep (ooh)
You know I'm on it (ooh)
The drank on me (ooh), draggin' my feet (ooh)
Hop in that whip (ooh), I'm 'bout to see you (ooh)
I'm like a creature (ooh), I'm on the creep (ooh) (grrt, grrt, baow)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Loblack, Bashar Jackson, Ellis Newton, Jerome Eversley, Khalif Malik Brown, Ryan Press, Steven Victor
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Snitching

[ Featuring Quavo, Future ]

So, you got the job doing what?
Bro, I get payed to snitch now, nigga
It's really classified, I can't really talk about this shit, my nigga
Oh, my God
Only reason I'm tellin' you this, 'cause you my boy
But don't f*ck with me, you see what I did to Roger
You seen what I did to Roger
Forty years
He had forty years?
Forty years, bitch, you don't wanna sign that plea
Forty years
Damn
Don't f*ck with me
(Seth The Chef)
(Buddah blessed this beat)

Yeah, Huncho
Look at my status (status)
No, I'm not braggin', I'm not average (average)
My bitch want a Patek (Patek)
I bought her a whip and I told her to stop naggin' (skrr)
Too much jewelry, my diamonds is blastin' (bling)
I bought it off backends (shinin')
The club is packed in (packed in)
Step in your city we goin' in (goin' in)
Drop the top, let's blow the wind (drop top)
F*ck the cops, we goin' big
Niggas out here hate the kid, 'cause I run it up when I'm supposed to dead, uh
Uh, bitch, I'm a player (player)
Nigga we're trappin', and checkin' the mail, yeah
Look at my layers (woo), designer my jacket, I'm handin' out bills, yeah
These niggas dead, soon as I said it, they wanna go tell, yeah
The way that you playin' (ayy), niggas out here be workin' with twelve

Damn (woo), snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh
Damn (go), snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh (snitchin')
Snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin, uh
Damn, snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin, uh, damn

They workin'(ay), they clockin' (woo), they watchin' (watchin')
No stoppin' (stoppin'), no options (options)
We ballin' (ballin'), we poppin' (poppin')
We goin' (woo), let's go (go)
Get money (money), get mo' (mo') to show
I got it (I got it), and there's plenty mo' on the boat (uh)
Nigga we came from the bottom
Yes, it's time for the bosses to toast (toast)
Me and the dog got collars (grr)
We puttin' diamonds on top of the chokers (ice)
F*ck nigga, come in the lane (woo)
Shit, we droppin' him off like a floater (float)
I ain't gon' mention his name
But if he do us like that then it's over (snitch)

Damn, snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh
Damn, snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh (snitchin')
Snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh
Damn
(Smoke) Niggas be out here snitchin', uh

Look, said I pull up, Amiri, got ninas attached (oh)
Walk in the buildin', I shake up the room
F*ck on your lady (oh), no feelings attached (yeah)
Just don't talk out your mouth 'cause she holdin' the broom
Yeah, yeah, walk in (walk in), then walk up out it
There's never a day I don't walk without it (no)
Shoot a nigga, never talk about it
'Cause these niggas be rats, yeah (rats)
I had to shoot it in class (class)
I had them ninas attached
F*ckin' 'round, see I had the best batch (woo)
If Quavo tell me get 'em, then I'ma do the dash (I'ma do the dash)
Yeah, dash (dash), I take off like a rocket (yeah)

Damn, snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh
Damn, snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh (snitchin')
Snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh
Damn
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh (Pluto)

Bobby Brown, Bobby Brown
Pick a town, lock it down
Chrome Hearts, Chrome Hearts
Bitches love my style (yeah)
Look at how my wrist glow, huh
Two-fifty just for the watch, uh
Post on the block, I was servin' for dollar
I caught a wave in some Maison Margiela
Audemar, water, Beretta, vendetta
Stella McCartney, you came with the bezel (came with the bezel)
Takin' off just like a rocket, got racks in my pocket
I'm havin' my way with these hoes
Shawty in love with my diamonds
She love how they twinkle
She love how they glisten and glow
Pour up a four like I'm young Tony Stoke
One in the head, ninety-nine more to go
Winnin' and winnin', pull up like a GOAT
Trippin', don't spill it, chinchilla on the floor
Came from the gutter, that's word from the bro
I'm Evel Knievel, these niggas some divas
I'm really havin' more hits than The Beatles
I was out trappin' with keys like Alicia
I be finessin' my plug, got it cheaper
Bought some new killers, I bought some new choppers
Hey
I'm on the block with the devil, I hang with the robbers
Any hood we go, they treat me like God, huh
Switch up the flow for the visual
Just so you know that I'm spiritual
All of my money identical
Blue faces, blue faces keep it one hundred
They want that Woo shit (they on that Woo shit)
Niggas gon' shoot shit (gon' shoot shit)
You ain't no Woo, nigga (no Woo, nigga)
You ain't gon' do shit (ain't gon' do shit)

Damn, snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh (woo)
Damn, snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh (snitchin')
Snitchin'
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh
Damn
Niggas be out here snitchin', uh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn, Quavious Keyate Marshall, Seth Jones, Tyron Douglas
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Make It Rain

[ Featuring Rowdy Rebel ]

Dread Woo, nigga, f*ck nigga
F*ck is wrong with niggas? Niggas don't really be on shit
(Beat by Yamaica productions, baby)
Niggas gonna be f*ckin' broke, nigga
'09 to the f*ckin' swish, nigga
We see niggas in traffic, nigga
Then Ricky run, nigga, yeah
Suck my dick, nigga
To all the f*ckin' opps (you know the vibes, like)
You know what's up, nigga, gang (don't f*ck around)

(Woo)

Look
I make it rain on whoever (uh)
I make it rain, that woo weather (grrt, baow)
Bitch, I'm a dog, a blue devil
I got the hoes like Hugh Hefner (boom, boom)
I make it rain on whoever (uh)
I make it rain, that woo weather (grrt, baow)
Bitch, I'm a dog, a blue devil
I got the hoes like Hugh Hefner (grrt)

I can't f*ck with these niggas, they not a hundred (nah)
Trap phone keep jumpin' (uh)
Until the fiends don't want it (want it)
Tell Drell to keep drummin' (drummin')
Tell Dread keep dumpin' (grrt)
Run, Ricky, he runnin' (grrt), run, Ricky, he runnin', look (woo)
Gas in the air (uh), you can smell the aroma
Bet I change up the motion, Pop Smoke in the Rover
Pop Smoke run 'em over, big wheel in the ocean (uh)
Everything icy (rose gold), three carats in the pointer

Look, ain't no apology
These niggas doubted me, I keep a pole tucked (know it)
Run up, catch a cold cut (grrt)
Put his head on his shoulder (bah)
Got the guns in the sofa (sofa)
Nigga, what's the commotion? ('Motion)
Put the guns in a holster (uh)
'Til they smokin' with the soldiers (woo)
Then I'm back in the deep end (uh)
Trap, trap all season (season)
Trap open on the weekends (weekends)
Niggas mad 'cause I'm eatin' (eatin')
And I'm in the flossy (flossy)
Where we stay reckless
Twenty-five on the left wrist (uh)
Spent twenty-five on the necklace (I see it)
Have your mama like, "Whoa, there go Pop Smoke" (let's get it)
Know the opps can't stand me (woo)
Rolls Royce, no Camry (woo)
Or skrrt off in the Panny (uh)
Hoodie on, duckin' cameras (cameras)
If my opps in the foreign (uh)
Then we shootin' up the Phantom (grrt)
Know I'm outside (uh), and I keep a pole (yeah)
And I'm on the roads (uh), 30K a show (uh)
Get it in between (haha), get it any means (for sure)
Amiri for the jeans (I'm talkin' my shit), let a nigga run (uh)

I make it rain on whoever (uh)
I make it rain, that woo weather (grrt, baow)
Bitch, I'm a dog, a blue devil
I got the hoes like Hugh Hefner (boom, boom)
I make it rain on whoever (uh)
I make it rain, that woo weather (grrt, baow)
Bitch, I'm a dog, a blue devil
I got the hoes like Hugh Hefner (grrt)

I can't f*ck with these niggas, they not a hundred (nah)
Trap phone keep jumpin' (jumpin')
Until the fiends don't want it (want it)
Tell Drell keep drummin'
Tell Dread keep dumpin'
Run, Ricky, he runnin', run, Ricky, he runnin', look
Gas in the air, you can smell the aroma
Bet I change up the motion, Pop Smoke in the Rover
Pop smoke run 'em over, big wheel in the ocean
Everything icy, three carats in the pointer (rose gold)

(Hello, this is a prepaid collect call from Rowdy baby, bitch) (baow)

I got the call behind the wall that it's still lit, then f*ck it
I told Fetty go and up it
My niggas ain't talkin', they dumpin'
I treat his face like Busta Rhymes, why you say that? I touch it
Then I threw the grip inside of the toilet with no remorse and flushed it
Why niggas still bluffin? I still haven't seen nothin' (where he at?)
My chain hang, don't tuck it, I touch down, I'm bustin'
Tell the label I need five M's, if not, I ain't signing nothin'
'Cause I'm on a flight with a Russian, getting head, concussion
And niggas saying that it's lit, real shit, it's nothin'
'Cause I'm in the Wraith with your bitch, gettin' lit, stuntin'
Ball out in any weather, shit on Rowdy, you could never
Go and grab your umbrella, 'cause we make it rain on whoever
Baow, we make it rain on whoever
(Grrt, grrt, baow, baow-baow-baow-baow)

Look, I make it rain on whoever (uh)
I make it rain, that woo weather (grrt, baow)
Bitch, I'm a dog, a blue devil
I got the hoes like Hugh Hefner (boom, boom)
I make it rain on whoever (uh)
I make it rain, that woo weather (grrt, baow)
Bitch, I'm a dog, a blue devil
I got the hoes like Hugh Hefner (grrt)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Alyamani Ouadah, Bashar Jackson, Chad Marshall
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






The Woo

[ Featuring 50 Cent, Roddy Ricch ]

She want a Woo nigga

She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with a Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

I told her, "Ooh-woo-woo"
Shawty wanna f*ck me inside of the coupe
I can take you out everywhere, f*ck a jet fare
Versace hotel with Versace robe, whoa, whoa (woo, woo)
Like you when you let down your hair with no comb (woo, woo)
And I stay to myself 'cause I never liked these hoes (yeah)
And she only liked the guap, red light these hoes
Why would I waste my time on a shorty that don't got me on the front of her mind?
Especially when you get designer and I wine and dine
And the Bentley came with the wings like a number nine
Yeah
Come through, just us two
I like you 'cause you cut how I'm cut too
Come through, just us two
I like you 'cause you cut how I'm cut too

She want a f*ck with the Woo (ayy, she wanna f*ck with the Woo, Woo)
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with a Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

That's my kind of bitch, she be sayin' some shit
Like, "When you gon' fly me in private, so I can land on that dick?"
She said, "Tricks is for kids", she don't fall for the tricks
She can handle her own, she just want some dick
Got that big Birkin bag worth five, six figures
You might be out your league, can you buy that, nigga?
I pull up on her top gone on the Dawn, I'm the don
You can f*ck around, if you want, if you want
Out in Bali, big swing, big dress
Big ass, make her squirt and make a big mess
Before we done, she ask "Where we gon' do it next?"
Neck so wet it f*cked up the seats in the jet
She like all that gangsta shit
Top down, ridin' 'round with the blick
Who you with? Woo
She like all that gangsta shit
I said, "She like all that gangsta shit"

She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with a Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo (hahaha)

Let me take you to the candy shop (candy shop)
Show you all I got (all I got, all I got)
I put the diamonds on your chain (chain, uh)
To match your diamond ring (uh, uh, uh)
I'm 092, nigga, Woo (Woo, back)
Hate it or love it (uh, uh), it's me and you (woo)
Let's turn her into something
She said she love Woo niggas (Woo, uh)
Them niggas who gon' pull triggers (haha, grrt)
I was fine when I met you (met you, pow)
Then I sexed you (sexed you, woo)
Then I left you (left you, uh)
'Cause your pussy feel the same (feel the same, feel the same)
And I don't got time to waste (no time to waste, let's get it in)

She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
She wanna f*ck with the Woo
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Adam Hashim, Andre Loblack, Bashar Jackson, Curtis Jackson, Jess Jackson, John Lucas, Rodrick Moore
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






West Coast Shit

[ Featuring Tyga, Quavo ]

(Bongo ByTheWay)
(Mustard on the beat, ho) look

Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke)
In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast)
(Huncho on that west coast shit, woo)
(Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo)
If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (rah)
Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt)
(I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em)
(Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper)

Ha, T-Raww, I'm on some west coast shit (business)
Lafeezy, live on the sunset strip (yeah, T-raww)
Today was a good day, fly as a blimp (aight, ah, ah)
I just booked a round trip, I don't argue with the bitch (no)
And my Spanish bitch talk spicy with the lips
When the car worth a M, you don't gotta touch the rim
Don't ask me the price, cost an arm, leg, and limb (yeah, ayy)
When you in the light, niggas wanna steer you dim (bit')
Where you get that from? Niggas gotta say it's him
Wanna copy my flow? I switch this shit again
Niggas ain't put the work, they don't celebrate the win
When you was ballin' with your bitch, I was shootin' in the gym, motherf*cker, ah

Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke)
In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast)
(Huncho on that west coast shit, woo)
(Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo)
If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (grrah)
Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt)
(I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em)
(Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper)

Christian Louboutins like I stepped in pasta
But I'll still steam his ass, hot grabba
I'm in that new Dior, Quay in that Prada
Don't get it confused, I'll drop him
Four door niggas ridin' strap, get straight hacked to the back
We don't play disrespect, real talk this not just rap
Gang ties in my tat, .22's in the shed
Shotgun in my bag, knock off a nigga dreads
Thirty-six karats on my wrist
That mean there's thirty-six karats on my bitch (woo)
Shoutout Virgil, got me drippin'
And it's straight from the faucet in the kitchen

Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke)
In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast)
(Huncho on that west coast shit, woo)
(Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo)
If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (grrah)
Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt)
(I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em)
(Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper)
(Quavo)

West side, North side, yessir (yessir)
East side, South side, let's go to work (go to work)
Right hand in the air, let's pop a Perc' (pop a Perc')
New coupe off the lot, skrrt in the dirt (skrrt)
She came in last place, she can get a shirt (get a shirt)
If she go to first place, baby get a purse (purse)
Cook it in the left hand, whip it in reverse (whip it)
Dead man in the hearse when the gang purge (uh)
500K on the wrist (ice), look at me scorin' your bitch (woo)
My diamonds close and they kiss, the skelly came with a fish (woo)
I catch a playoff assist, now watch it jump out the pit (uh)
I can't get caught in the mix
I make a hit, I can't miss (hit)

Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke)
In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast)
(Huncho on that west coast shit, woo)
(Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo)
If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (grrah)
Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt)
(I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em)
(Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Jackson, Dijon McFarlane, Michael Stevenson, Quavious Marshall, Uforo Ebong
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Enjoy Yourself

[ Featuring Karol G ]

Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uh
Ooh (yeah)
Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uh
Ooh, ooh
Ooh, ooh
Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uh
Ooh, ooh, ooh
(Palaze, what you cookin'?)
Look, look

You don't gotta put your cup down, hol' on (ooh)
Drink freely (yeah) and holla at me if you need me (ooh)
Baby, you should enjoy yourself (ooh)
Bossed up, need no help, look (ooh)
They say, "Fly girls have more fun" (more fun, more fun)
So what? so you should enjoy yourself, yeah, yeah
You should enjoy yourself (ooh)

It's a room full of trap niggas (trap), strap niggas (strap)
If the opps run up in this shit, we gon' clap niggas (oh)
Woo niggas, huh (huh), some slatt niggas (slatt)
Pockets feel like a fat nigga (ooh)
Shopping up in Saks Fifth with a cup of Actavis to get Christian Dior
Look, I be all up in the stores (oh, oh)
Young nigga, I can buy you what you want (yeah, yeah, yeah)
She got a fat ass, shorty shaped like Serena (oh, ooh)
Long hair, brown eyes, shorty look like Selena (Selena)
Shorty said that she was Puerto Rican (Rican)
Her pussy wet like Katrina (Katrina, Katrina)
Oh, 2-10 on the dashboard (dash)
Shorty, be clear what you ask for
And she got that get right, mama
And I gotta get my baby
Listen, I don't want no problems (I don't want)
I just want my baby (look, look)

You don't gotta put your cup down, hold on (ooh)
Drink freely (yeah) and holla at me if you need me (ooh)
Baby, you should enjoy yourself (ooh)
Bossed up, need no help, look (ooh)
They say, "Fly girls have more fun" (more fun, more fun)
So what? so you should enjoy yourself, yeah, yeah (yeah)
You should enjoy yourself

Me monto en el Phantom, bebé, prendo el booster (ah)
Me gasté cinco mil en un bustier (sí, sí)
To' high fashion, haute couture
Si no ere' tú, otros hombres me aburren (yeah, yeah)
Los moños flow Mulán, de camino a Milán (de camino a Milán)
Tresciento' mil por un show, eso me dan (eso me dan)
Montamo' junto' en el Can-Am (huh)
Por mí él forma una guerra como en Irán
Yo tengo má' flow que el Fashion Week
Diamante' esmeralda como la weed (eh)
Follamo' en mi cama y le damo' repeat
Eso e' lo má' que le gusta de mí

Soltera anda como Rihanna (Rihanna)
Aunque con él se viene (ey)
Todo' quieren una colombiana (sí)
Pero él ya la tiene
Está soltera, anda como Rihanna (ey)
Aunque con él se viene (yeah)
Todo' quieren una colombiana (sí)
Pero él ya la tiene (look, look)

You don't gotta put your cup down, hol' on
Drink freely (yeah) and holla at me if you need me
Baby, you should enjoy yourself
Bossed up, need no help, look
They say, "Fly girls have more fun" (more fun, more fun)
So what? so you should enjoy yourself, yeah, yeah (yeah)
You should enjoy yourself

I won't kiss and tell
Just buy you Chanel
Always roll you up, put H's on your belt

Uh-huh, uh-uh-huh
Uh-huh, uh-uh-huh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Carolina Navarro, Christoffer Marcussen, Lucas Grob
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Mood Swings

[ Featuring Lil Tjay ]

(Mood swings)
Oh, you ain't know I could sing? (Oh, oh, oh)
Hahaha (yeah)

Shorty a lil' baddie (she a lil' baddie)
Shorty my lil' boo thing (boo thing)
And shorty got the fatty
Shorty be catching mood swings
Every time I f*ck without a rubber
I nutted on the covers
And I kept it undercover
'Cause I don't kiss and tell (kiss and tell)

Every time I f*ck, she call me daddy
My lil' mama nasty
I see the pussy through the panties (whatever you want)
She taste like candy
She a queen, like Nefertiti
Uh-oh, my lil' mama sittin' pretty
And we be shoppin' through the city (oh, oh)
I gave her keys to the Bentley (whoa, whoa)
Get off your knees, you don't gotta cry to me
I'm your best friend, baby, you don't gotta lie
I'll get you everything that you want and you need from Chanel to Celine
It's on you to decide
Valentino, yeah, I put you in the best
Start liftin' up your dress, start kissin' on your neck (oh no, no)
Start rubbin' on your butt, start massagin' your breasts
I ain't wanna give you a baby just yet, so I backed out and nutted on your breasts
I put you in an Uber (Uber) and sent you to your bed (oh)
The very next day (oh), you sent me a text (oh)
You pulled up to the crib and we did it again (oh, oh)

Shorty a lil' baddie (she a lil' baddie)
Shorty my lil' boo thing (boo thing)
And shorty got the fatty
Shorty be catching mood swings
Every time I f*ck without a rubber
I nutted on the covers
And I kept it undercover
'Cause I don't kiss and tell (ooh)

You know, I never found love until I looked into your eyes (into your eyes)
First time blushin', I ain't even gon' lie (ain't even gon' lie)
Four rounds in, leavin' bruises on your thighs
You the only bitch could make me spin off on the guys
And the only bitch that make me wanna nut when I'm inside
It's your vibe, leave with me you gettin' high
None of these bitches f*ckin' with you even if they tried
Pussy on tsunami, I ain't never felt it dry
Close my eyes 'fore I sleep, hope you be there when I wake
Honestly, I feel the vibe we have is great
And if there's something in your mind, you can tell me
And if I told you what's on mine, would you help me?
You gon' see the bigger picture, it's just gon' take time
Just because you mine
I'ma keep you lookin' like a dime
Ain't no imperfections, girl, you fine
Baby, what's your sign?
hope you ain't against the slow grind
(Work, work, it's me and you) me and you
Keep it silent, there ain't nothin' we can't do
Through the storm, baby, we can make it through
Why you actin' brand new? You know you my lil' boo thing
Got up on my Birkin, it's workin'
She said she a virgin (it's hurtin')
She my biggest fan, she always lurkin'
She know I'm a man, I'ma put that work in
I know she can't stand me, I'm fancy
So I'ma bring her out when I get my Grammy
Late night sex, she can't find her panties
Couldn't hold it in, now she need a Plan B

(Shorty a lil' baddie)
(She my lil' boo thing)
And shorty got the fatty (shorty got the fatty)
Shorty be catching mood swings
(Every time I f*ck without a rubber)
(I nutted on her covers)
And I kept it undercover
'Cause I don't kiss and tell
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Jackson, Deandre Sumpter, Omar A. Gomez, Tione Merritt
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Something Special

I think you are (you are) something special
I'll take you on a shopping spree (oh, yeah)
'Cause I'm so into you (oh)
I'm so into you (I love you, baby)
I'm so into you (oh, my)
I'm so into you (to you), baby (baby)

What you like? What you wear?
Say the name, say the price, put them diamonds on your ear
Shinin' like a chandelier
What's your thoughts? What's your fears?
Yeah, I need that real love (real love)
Talkin' Bobby and Whitney (Whitney)
You don't gotta worry 'bout nothin' as long as you with me (with me, look)
'Cause shit could get sticky, that's why I keep a glizzy
Ride around through my city (woo)
F*ck Kassandra, Kanisha, Kanika and Tisha
Lisa and Tisha (f*ck them hoes, uh)
F*ck them hoes 'cause I don't need them, all them bitches treeshas
They ain't in the field, they on the bleachers (treeshas)
On your back, I start applying that lotion (yeah, lotion)
So deep, I'ma go in, pullin' all on your sew-in (sew-in)
I'm Pop Smoke, but you know all my governments
All that gangster shit, you be lovin' it
She love how I'm thuggin' it (oh, you like that?)
Shawty brown and petite (yeah)
Fly and discreet, a demon in the sheets
Mother was a lawyer, her father the police
They be working long hours, so she always had the free
She said I could come with her if it get hot up in the streets
'Cause I'm a 'rilla in the jungle and a shark up in the sea
She like, "Papi, you so fire, but get up out the streets"
I'm like, "Baby, what you mean?" (What you mean?)
Look

I think (baby) you are
You are (you are) something special (my girl)
I'll take you on a shopping spree
'Cause I'm so into you (to you)
I'm so into you (you are)
I'm so into you
I'm so into you, baby (baby)

Baby (baby)
You are (you are) my girl (my girl)
You are (you are) my girl

(I think) you are (you are)
You are (you are) something special (oh, yeah)
I'll take you on a shopping spree (oh, baby)
'Cause I'm so into you (baby)
I'm so into you (you are)
I'm so into you (my girl)
I'm so into you (you are), baby (my girl)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






What You Know Bout Love

My whole life has changed
Since you came in (uh)
I knew back then
You were that special one
I'm so in love
So deep in love
You make my life complete
You are so sweet
No one competes
Glad you came into my life
You blind me with your love
With you I have no sight

Shawty go jogging every morning (every morning)
And she make me breakfast almost every morning (every morning)
And she take a naked pic before she leave the door
I be waking up to pics before a nigga yawning
And every weekend my shawty comin' over (over)
Shawty could Fendi out but she like Fashion Nova (Nova)
She ain't driving no Camry she pullin' in a Rover (Rover)
With her hair so curly, I love you, baby

She said, "What you know 'bout love?" (I'll tell you everything)
I got what you need (oh)
Walk up in the store and get what you want (go get it)
You get what you please
We 'bout to get it on, take off them drawers (I said I love you, baby)
It's just you and me
You know what I be on, I'm about to go raw (love you, baby)
'Cause I like what I see (oh)

Look, baby, I said I ain't gon' front
You got my heart beating so fast to words I can't pronounce
And I be getting the chills every time I feel your touch
I be looking at the top and girl, it's only us
All I need is your trust
And girl I told you once, don't make me tell you twice
I know you see this print through my pants that I know you like
And yo ass be looking so fat when it be in them tights
And I'm going straight to the top, so hope you ain't afraid of heights
You always keep me right, for a fact, you never left
Through all the trials and tribulations, always had my best
So here's fifty-five hunnid, go and get your breasts
Start rubbin' on your butt, start kissing on yo neck
Hey batter, batter, hey batter, batter
Niggas know I had to swing, I had to make a play
I had to apply the pressure, 'cause you my hidden treasure
I think I'm falling in love

She said, "What you know 'bout love?" (I'll tell you everything)
I got what you need (oh)
Walk up in the store and get what you want (go get it)
You get what you please
We 'bout to get it on, take off them drawers (I said I love you, baby)
It's just you and me
You know what I be on, I'm about to go raw (love you, baby)
'Cause I like what I see (oh)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Jackson, Elgin Lumpkin, Tashim Zene, Troy Oliver
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Diana

[ Featuring King Combs ]

Here's to you for givin' me a chance
(Oh, oh)

Uh, shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your, uh
Shorty, light-skinned, tatted, huh, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your style

Baby, we could take it all away
Fast whips, cash trips, ass crisp
Yeah, you know I got it (what you want?)
Bad bitch, mad thick, high fashion
I don't need a stylist, I'm him
Get you there, I could fly you in (uh-huh, uh-huh)
Bad bitches, they be eyein' him (say what?)
Heard I be with Smoke and them (skrrt, skrrt)
Shake it (shake it), talk that shit you was talkin' (talkin')
Hit it from the back wit' her archin' (wit' her archin')
Have her leavin' with a limp when she walkin' (when she walkin')
I don't care if she light-skin or dark-skin (I don't care)
Pussy watery, slippery, caution
Had to murder it, put it in a coffin (damn)
"Chris, I love you," I hear that so often

Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your, uh
Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your style

I ain't gon' lie, I need you (woo)
Don't let me in it (don't let me in it)
I might just breed you, look (I might just breed you, okay)
She said she wanna be a teacher
Damn, in my head, she would look good as a teacher (teacher)
She would look good as a teacher (teacher), uh
Treat her with Balenciaga sneakers (oh)
Please her, baby, let me eat you
Home run, home run like Jeter (Jeter)
Don't make me catch you cheatin', beat her (bad boy)
RIP Capo, pull up in Tahoe
She said, "Oh, her brother's Wooin'" (Woo)
She said she's seen me around (yup)
She said she love what I'm doin' (I love it)
She said, "Do you remember me?" (Me)
"You was a friend to me"
We start talkin' sexually, it's been a while

Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, huh, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your, uh
Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, huh, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your style
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Anthony Blagmon, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Christian Combs, Pierre Richard Rene, Calvin Woods
Copyright: Lyrics © SINGLES PUBLISHING, LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Got It on Me

Look
Have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul
Don't let my heart turn cold
Have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul
Don't let my heart turn cold
Have mercy on many men
Many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
Yeah, I don't cry no mo'
I don't look to the sky no mo'
'Cause I got it on me
I got it on me
I got it on me
You can run up if you want (f*ck is you talking 'bout?)

Look
It's Pop Smoke, niggas know me
Keep two fours like I'm Kobe
Is you ridin' or you hidin'?
If you slidin', then you owe me (owe me)
Run up, catch cold feet
Niggas act tough then call police
I don't make friends, yeah, I make bands
Want some Ray-Bans 'cause I'm a OG
This AR be my trophy
Shoot first, nigga, shoot back
'09, niggas woo back
Nigga automatic when the woo clap
Shoot first, nigga, shoot back
'09, niggas woo back
Nigga automatic when the woo clap
(Automatic when the woo clap)

Have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul
Don't let my heart turn cold
Have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul
Don't let my heart turn cold
Have mercy on many men
Many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
Yeah, I don't cry no mo'
I don't look to the sky no mo'
'Cause I got it on me
I got it on me
I got it on me
You can run up if you want

Fifty shots up in this Glock, I won't let up
XD, niggas totin' Berettas
Shoot first and do yourself a favor
Report like I'm Craig Sager
Back out, niggas ain't with the bluffin'
Dread Woo, a nigga shoot you for nothin'
Ten toes on your block like I'm Drummond
SK'll have a blicky runnin' (it's Pop Smoke)
It's that nigga from the Floss, your bitch right back
And I don't politic 'cause niggas ain't like that
I drop a slip or two and get a light pack
And I don't care if you losin', still fight back

Have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul
Don't let my heart turn cold
Have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul
Don't let my heart turn cold
Have mercy on many men
Many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
Yeah, I don't cry no mo'
I don't look to the sky no mo'
'Cause I got it on me
I got it on me
I got it on me
You can run up if you want

Mercy on me
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Dmytro Luchko
Copyright: Lyrics © SOAR MUSIC GROUP, Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Tunnel Vision (Outro)

Haha, mami like
Mami like, "Damn boy, you made it" (man, you did)
But she said, "You ain't nice" (at all)
I tell her I know I'm nice, ha

Look, I don't talk to niggas (nah), I don't feel these niggas (at all)
Got a hundred round in my pocket, I'm ready, go kill these niggas (brrt, brrt)
Look and it's tunnel vision (yeah) when I'm in the field, nigga (in the field)
If I tell Mikey Woo (Woo), then he gon' go drill a nigga (grrt, baow)
I'm a Brooklyn nigga (Brooklyn), but shout out my Philly niggas (my Philly niggas)
I don't f*ck with a lot of niggas because I'm too real for niggas (yeah, nah)
They don't know what it means (yeah) to have million dollar dreams (dreams)
Then you wake up on the block and it's back to servin' fiends (yeah)

I don't drink Belaire (nah), but I'm in Bel Air like I'm Uncle Phil
Don't call me bluff, nigga, I am and, nigga, I will, look (nigga, I will)
And I'm from the fields (woo), now it's million dollar deals (woo)
And it's all out of nowhere, push me and I'ma go there
All in a second, gun kickin' like it's Tekken (buck, buck)
I'm a force to be reckoned, I'm God's perfection
Look, God gave me a lot in some months, but it could go in a second
If I f*ck the wrong bitch (woo) or walk up in the wrong session

I don't talk to niggas (nah), I don't feel these niggas (at all)
Got a hundred round in my pocket, I'm ready, go kill these niggas (brrt, brrt)
Look and it's tunnel vision (yeah) when I'm in the field, nigga (in the field)
If I tell Mikey Woo (Woo), then he gon' go drill a nigga (grrt, baow)
I'm a Brooklyn nigga (Brooklyn), but shout out my Philly niggas (my Philly niggas)
I don't f*ck with a lot of niggas because I'm too real for niggas (yeah, nah)
They don't know what it means (yeah) to have million dollar dreams (dreams)
Then you wake up on the block and it's back to servin' fiends (yeah, nah)

Uh, stepped in the game, started changin' it, changin' it, haha
Never who, forever the Woo

What do you want your impact to be on the music industry?
Like, a hundred years from now, how do you want people to remember you?
Pop Smoke did this, he did that, he did what?
Pop Smoke came in and changed the game
Pop Smoke came in and showed them niggas a new vibe
You know, the whole sound, the whole vibe, the whole movement
Different

Forever my heart, forever my dawgs
We still gon' put on for you
The smoke will never clear
Never
Woo, woo, woo, grrt, baow
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Carson Hackney, Jugraj Singh Nag
Copyright: Lyrics © CARSON JAMES HACKNEY, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Dior

(Trap House Mob)
Huh, roll another one (aha, ha ha)

Said I'm never lackin', always pistol packing
With them automatics, we gon' send him to heaven
Wait, wait, wait, wait, aye, aye, woo (aw, shit), huh (ha ha)
Oh you feelin' sturdy, huh? (You feelin' sturdy, man)
Shake some
Shake it huh, shake it huh, shake it huh

She like the way that I dance
She like the way that I move
She like the way that I rock
She like the way that I woo
And she let it clap for a nigga
(She let it clap for a nigga)
And she throw it back for a nigga
(Yeah, she throw it back for a nigga)
Mike Amiri, Mike Amiri
Billie Jean, Billie Jean (uh)
Christian Dior, Dior
I'm up in all the stores
When it rains, it pours
She like the way I (err)
Mike Amiri, Mike Amiri
Billie Jean, Billie Jean (uh)
Christian Dior, Dior
I'm up in all the stores
When it rains, it pours
She like the way I (err)

When I walk in the spot, thirty on me
Buy out the club, niggas know that I'm paid
Bitch, I'm a thot, get me lit
I can't f*ck with these niggas 'cause niggas is gay
All on my page suckin' dick
All in my comments and screamin' my name
While I'm in the club
Throwin' them hundreds and fifties and ones and ones
Pop Smoke, they know I'm wildin'
If I'm on the island, I'm snatchin' the cell
Brody got locked, denied his bail
Until he free, I'm raisin' hell
Tell my shooters call me FaceTime
For all the times we had to face time
Free D-Nice, he doin' state time
If you need the glizzy, you could take mine
Please don't come out your mouth, you know I'm like that
I'll make a movie like TNT
Glock-30 on me, ask who really want it
I bet I air it like BNB
Nappy Blue wildin' in my section
And I keep that .38 for the weapon
Remember when I came home from corrections
All the bad bitches in my direction

She like the way that I dance
She like the way that I move
She like the way that I rock
She like the way that I woo
And she let it clap for a nigga
(She let it clap for a nigga)
And she throw it back for a nigga
(Yeah, she throw it back for a nigga)
Mike Amiri, Mike Amiri
Billie Jean, Billie Jean (uh)
Christian Dior, Dior
I'm up in all the stores
When it rains, it pours
She like the way I (err)
Mike Amiri, Mike Amiri
Billie Jean, Billie Jean (uh)
Christian Dior, Dior
I'm up in all the stores
When it rains, it pours
She like the way I (err)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Jackson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Hotel Lobby

I was chillin' in my hotel lobby (lobby)
When I got a call that niggas tryna find me
I don't really wanna catch a body (body)
But I got a feelin' niggas tryna line me (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I was chillin' in my hotel lobby (lobby)
When I got a call that niggas tryna find me (find me)
I don't really wanna catch a body (body)
But I got a feelin' niggas tryna line me

If I can't do it, homie, it can't be done
I'ma let the champagne bottle pop
I'ma take it to the top
Show you how my niggas rock
092

My dawgs (dawgs) stay with it (stay with it)
Big apes (apes) in the cave with it (cave with it)
Free Melly G'z, he in the cage with it
Pop Smoke (uh), yeah, I stay with it
Summertime, spicy
Got my weight up, now, they like me
You want your bread back? (uh), come and fight me (fight me)
Check that (check that), Nike (Nike)
I done came a long way from the street shit (street shit)
I done knocked lotta niggas out, G shit (G shit)
I remember when they said I ain't gon' be shit (nah)
Well, I'ma be shit (uh), uh, look (look)
And I did fifteen on my check-ins
Stashed, then you can check it
Christian Loubin', I'm steppin'
At the teller, she like, "Hol' up a second"
All eyes on me when I step in
Pieces kickin' like Tekken (grr)
And I dumped a few slips through the mobile (yeah)
You can call if they hold 'em
Got the gold back like Trojan
Mansa Musa get used to
Rip my shirt off like Hogan
D's be sweatin' me
Kicked down my door, findin' guns and more, guns galore

I was chillin' in my hotel lobby (lobby)
When I got a call that niggas tryna find me
I don't really wanna catch a body (body)
But I got a feelin' niggas tryna line me (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I was chillin' in my hotel lobby (lobby)
When I got a call that niggas tryna find me (find me)
I don't really wanna catch a body (body)
But I got a feelin' niggas tryna line me

If I can't do it, homie, it can't be done
I'ma let the champagne bottle pop
I'ma take it to the top
Show you how my niggas rock
092

I was chillin' in my hotel lobby (lobby)
When I got a call that niggas tryna find me (find me)
I don't really wanna catch a body (body)
But I got a feelin' niggas tryna line me (yeah, yeah, yeah)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Jess Jackson
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Showin Off Pt.1

(Traphouse Mob)
Uh
(This is a Melo beat)
Uh
Look
(It's big 092MLBOA)

GQ (GQ), huh?
You got a gun, nigga, gun nigga? (Gun, nigga, huh)
Play disrespect, never (never)
K with it (K with it), uh
Niggas know that we don't play with it (nah, huh)
Big .38 gon' hawk 'em (hawk 'em)
Two stripes, saucin' (saucin')
I keep a Tech when I'm walkin' (walkin')
Pick him up, toss him (toss him)
Big drip, flossin' (flossin')
Get it straight, cashin' (cashin')
Don't f*ck around, yeah, I'm packin' (packin')
Have it (have it), havoc (havoc, ayy)
Me and Fivi' causin' havoc (ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)

Look
Action (action), see an opp and it was action (ayy, ayy, ayy)
All these questions that you're askin' (bow)
She like, "Why your face tatted?" (Wow)
I take a Perc', 'cause it's relaxin' (I do)
I see an opp and I'm attackin' (I am)
Hol' on, saggin' (hol' on, wait)
Blue flag when I'm flaggin' (ayy, ayy) (Traphouse Mob)
I'm prepared for their reaction (I am)
They say Robert was a classic (it was)
Voodoo (voodoo), magic (magic), Fivi', savage (ayy, ayy)
Hol' on (hol' on), hol' on (hol' on)
I go on drills with a passion (ayy)
Hol' on (hol' on), hol' on (hol' on)
I see him I ask, "Where the track is?"

If I see an opp when it's dark out (dark out)
Step on the court, ball out (ball out)
Walk in the spot, walk out (walk out)
What the f*ck is all the talk about? (Huh?)
Up out the chop, aimin' (aimin')
Put her pussy on the pavement (pavement)
Huh? Stainless (stainless)
Amiri jeans, stainless (stainless)
Pop Smoke, yeah, I'm in all the stores
What's on your feet? I'm like, "Christian Dior"
Double G, yeah, that's all on my tee
Big Benz, peanut butter seats
Big body, mixy (mixy) (this a Melo beat)
S-Class, six-three (six-three)
I'm all in your bitch, dick deep (dick deep)
Slide through your block with the rippys (rippys)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Maxie Ryles
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Showin Off Pt.2

Ayy (uh)
(Grr)
Know the vibes, baow
Know the vibes, baow
(How you doin'?)
It's legendary shit
(Give it to 'em)
Fivio Foreign, Pop Smoke (baow)
(Give it to 'em)
(How you doin?)
Bitch, ayy

Showin' off, all of my niggas is showin' off (ayy, ayy)
If bro do a hit, I'ma show 'em off (ayy)
See a opp, and show no remorse (ayy, ayy)
I took a Perc' and start goin' off (ayy, ayy)
They thought the pills had me fallin' off (ayy, ayy)
Nah, I'm goin' more (ayy, ayy)
Showin' off, ayy (ayy, ayy), all of my niggas is showin' off (ayy, ayy)
If bro do a hit, I'ma show 'em off (ayy)
See a opp, and show no remorse (ayy, ayy)
Ayy, ayy, ayy
I took a Perc' and start goin' off (ayy, ayy)
They thought the pills had me fallin' off (ayy)
Nah (nah), I'm goin' more (ayy, ayy)

I'm thinkin' death, before dishonor (dishonor)
I stay in drip, all in designer (designer)
Shorty a ho, why would you wife her? (Wife her)
If she talk hot, I send Twix to line her
Nigga, I dare you, move hot (hot)
They know my body, two chops (chops)
Uh, Fivi' (Fivi'), circle your block for an hour (hour)
Money (money), power (power)
Too floss, sour (sour)
Nigga you sweet, flowers (flowers)
Oh, you ain't blow? Cowards (cowards)
Pussy boy, know you ain't down to ride (nah)
Chop to your face if you f*ck on my guys (nah, nah)
Pop Smoke, one of one (one)
Headshot, one and done (baow)
Stone cold, passion (woo)
Beat him up, drag him (drag him)
All the opps in a spliff
Puff-puff (puff-puff)
Pass him (pass him), pass him (pass him)
Dead on his head, tag him (tag him)
All this aggression and action (action)
Fashion (fashion), fashion (fashion)
It's lookin' good in all this fashion (fashion)

Showin' off, all of my niggas is showin' off (ayy, ayy)
If bro do a hit, I'ma show 'em off (ayy)
See a opp, and show no remorse (ayy, ayy)
I took a Perc' and start goin' off (ayy, ayy)
They thought the pills had me fallin' off (ayy, ayy)
Nah, I'm goin' more (ayy, ayy)
Showin' off, ayy (ayy, ayy), all of my niggas is showin' off (ayy, ayy)
If bro do a hit, I'ma show 'em off (ayy)
See a opp, and show no remorse (ayy, ayy)
Ayy, ayy, ayy
I took a Perc' and start goin' off (ayy)
They thought the pills had me fallin' off (ayy)
Nah (nah), I'm goin' more (ayy, ayy)

Defense (defense)
Shoot his hand if he reachin' (baow, baow, baow)
Cock it (cock it), squeeze it (squeeze it)
In that sequence (ayy)
I heard my picture in the precinct (ayy)
Free Gutta out the beacon (ayy)
They ask, (ask), don't talk, (talk), shh, secrets
You want that fire look for me (ayy)
Heat (heat) seekin' (seekin', ayy)
Ether (ether) vegan (vegan)
But he still with the beefin' (ayy, ayy)
If shawty bad she get the treatment (she do)
I seen her, fiend it (I fiend it)
Beat 'em, beat 'em (baow)
Beat 'em (ayy), beat 'em (err, err), beat 'em (look, huh)
The demon juice (demon juice)
Turn me into a demon (ayy)
Cherry (cherry), leanin' (leanin'), swipey (swipey), speedin' (skrr)
The bitch is bad, I still cheated (ayy)
Don't argue, I don't need it (nah)
Fivi' (Fivi'), I'm leavin' (I'm leavin')
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

Showin' off, all of my niggas is showin' off (ayy, ayy)
If bro do a hit, I'ma show 'em off (ayy)
See a opp, and show no remorse (ayy, ayy)
I took a Perc' and start goin' off (ayy, ayy)
They thought the pills had me fallin' off (ayy, ayy)
Nah, I'm goin' more (ayy, ayy)
Showin' off, ayy (ayy, ayy), all of my niggas is showin' off (ayy, ayy)
If bro do a hit, I'ma show 'em off (ayy, ayy)
See a opp, and show no remorse (ayy, ayy)
Ayy, ayy, ayy
I took a Perc' and start goin' off (ayy)
They thought the pills had me fallin' off (ayy)
Nah (nah), I'm goin' more (ayy, ayy)

(AXL)
"O moj Boze, ale dojebalem bit"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Manalla Yusuf Abdul Aziz, Maxie Ryles, Szymon Swiatczak
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC






Iced Out Audemars

(Rico's going crazy again)
Woo
Iced out Audemars (Audemars)
I got forty thousand
I'm up in all the stores, wait
Hahaha, hahaha
Look
Oh you feelin' sturdy, nigga?
Look, we 'bout to get sturdy now (baow)
We 'bout to get sturdy now (look, shake it)

Iced out Audemars (Audemars)
Got like forty more (forty more)
Walked in with forty thousand (forty thousand)
I'm up in all the stores (all the stores)
Bad bitch from Baltimore (Baltimore)
And she love Dior (Dior)
She throw a hunnid clip (clip)
When it rains it pours (rains it pours)

Shawty light and sexy (sexy)
She like givin' becky
Sexy Lexi drivin Lexus (woo)
Bad bitch gon' smack the reverend (reverend)
Spin your block like Tetris (Tetris)
Longhorn, Texas
I can't f*ck no fat bitch, never (nah)
I'm young and reckless
I said I'm shootin' proper
I make 'em cha-cha
I'm a rocker, I'll boom your casa
Then do the cucaracha
I order steak with lobster
After I smoke my purple
Shots at NOBU, know I'm global
I'm on a different timin'
My VS diamonds dancin'
This ain't no SI stones
I'm smokin' Runts in Rome
Ice on my neck, I'm freezin'
If you don't suck dick I'm leavin'
Bad bitch geekin', showin' cleavage
She know she teasin'
Don't try this at home
This for the rich and famous (uh)
Highly educated, patient, off the rocks, I'm faded
All my cars updated
Only V-12 engines
All my checks is clearin', y'all just spendin'
Only drivin' German, in the Benz I'm swervin'

Iced out Audemars
Got like forty more
Walked in with forty thousand
I'm up in all the stores
Bad bitch from Baltimore
And she love Dior
She throw a hunnid clip (grr)
When it rains it pours

Wait, uh
I'm in Hermes spending thousands (thousands)
Lil' baddie from the island (woo)
They told me Dafi you be wildin'
Twenty thousand on Dior
And the brand new Porsche got no mileage
These foreign bitches actin' childish
I be flossing drippin' with no stylist (hol' on)
Uh (uh)
Ask Rico Beats, see I'm a goat
I poured the liquor it's a boat
Bitch, I'm Dafi Woo, not folk (GDK)
Uh, wait
And I spend a hunnind' on an AP (what?)
I make you niggas look like babies (babies)
And I throw the rock up like I'm Jay-Z
Iced out Audemars, spent like fifty K
We up in all the stores (stores)
Uh, uh
Oh you feeling sturdy, nigga? (Hol' on)
'Cause you could get shot down (boom, boom, boom)
And I spin like fifty nigga
'Cause I keep them Glocks 'round (baow)
Popping Percs in Bali (woo)
Keep her perculated
Shades dark for all the haters
Nigga, I'm a taker
I make you meet your maker (grr)
Iced out Audemars (hol' on)
Dafi Woo

Iced out Audemars (Audemars)
Got like forty more (forty more)
Walked in with forty thousand (forty thousand)
I'm up in all the stores (all the stores)
Bad bitch from Baltimore (Baltimore)
And she love Dior (Dior)
She throw a hunnid clip (clip)
When it rains it pours (rains it pours)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: John Jr. Stevens, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Khadafi Julio, Ricardo Lamarre
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, ET AL MUSIC CO, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Woo Year

CashMoneyAP (yeah)
(F*ck outta here)
On a whole new wave (yeah)
We gon' catch it (yeah)
Yeah, hahahaha (Kio)
Yeah

She fell in love with the bag
So designer
Yeah, she fell in love with the bag (hahahaha)
Diamond cuts, oh

I'm up now, I'm up next
I traded the AP for a Patek
Twenty years, movin' like a vet'
G4 when I hop on the jet
I bought Richard Mille with baguettes
I emptied the clip until they turn left
No ID, call collect
When you see me, you know I'm that nigga
She wanna hop on a plane with that nigga
She wanna go switch lanes with that nigga
She wanna skrrt, skrrt, skrrt with that nigga, oh
Take flights overseas and I'm just 'bout my breeze
I could care less 'bout a treesha, paint her face, Mona Lisa
I sold that cocaina to buy them brand new sneakers
Hunnid K a feature, now I could f*ck my teacher

She fell in love with the bag
So designer
Yeah, she fell in love with the bag
Diamond cuts (woo, woo), oh

She fell in love with the
She fell in love with the woo (woo)
See me down when it's me in my booth
Forever Pop, yeah, he shake up the room
(Woo) forever Pop, yeah, he shake up the room
No hesitation', no pickin', no choose (uh, uh)
I keep the stick and you know I'm the shooter
Daffi with me and he totin' the Ruger
She fell in love with the bag
She throwin' it back and I'm slappin' her ass
Two eighty eight and I'm doin' the dash
Amiri, the denim, Louis V on my ass
Lil' treesh on my body (racks), I'm smokin' the gas
I do what I want, had the guns in the the Class
Bad bitch, treeshin', RJ, hop out, leavin'
Bend blocks, speedin' (skrrt, skrrt, skrrt) (grr, baow)
TG, bleedin', scannin', readin' (scannin', scannin', readin', readin')

She fell in love with the bag
So designer
Yeah, she fell in love with the bag
Diamond cuts, oh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Alex Petit, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Dylan Cleary-Krell, Kiowa Roukema
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Tsunami

I don't wanna
I don't wanna wait for you to love me, no
Yeah, every other day, you got me thinkin' if it's real low
Girl wine it, come my way
I got some my way
Girl you my summer, give me sunshinin'
If you move to di left you, mi not gon' move to di right
Baby girl's back way gon' treat me right
Me wan' di one way, ah pum-pum tight
But girl you do me like kryptonite

Do you want me?
'Cause girl I want you
It's pretty obvious that I wanna put it on you
I can't be waitin''cause I got a girl, I'm datin'
When you wine it on me, girl
Might end in a f*ckin' tsunami
Do you want me?
'Cause girl I want you
It's pretty obvious that I wanna put it on you
I can't be waitin' 'cause I got a girl, I'm datin'
When you wine it on me, girl
Might end in a f*ckin' tsunami

All these chains on my neck, feel like Rick the Ruler
All yellow gold like Miss Musa
Iced out bezel cooler than a cooler
It's just me and my bitch, shootin' with a shooter
Let me tell you 'bout this mama out from Brooklyn
Shawty say she like how I'm lookin'
Shawty said I look like a snack
And if I ever had home cookin' (home cook')
And I'm like, "F*ck that"
You ever had a nigga that's wooin' (woo)
You better know what you doin' (what you do)
'Cause I'll take you shoppin' (shoppin')
I'll spoil you, baby (baby)
Christian Dior (Dior)
Mike Amiri (Amiri)
Céline (Céline)

Do you want me?
'Cause girl I want you
It's pretty obvious that I wanna put it on you
I can't be waitin''cause I got a girl, I'm datin'
When you wine it on me, girl
Might end in a f*ckin' tsunami
Do you want me?
'Cause girl I want you
It's pretty obvious that I wanna put it on you
I can't be waitin' 'cause I got a girl, I'm datin'
When you wine it on me, girl
Might end in a f*ckin' tsunami

It's 2am from a one to a ten, you a ten
Baby, let's not pretend (let's not pretend)
I ain't just tryna be friends (friends)
When I'm with you 'til the end ('til the end)
And I pull up Bentley truck (Bentley truck)
They know my chains is tucked (tucked)
These bitches be lame as f*ck (lame as f*ck)
These bitches be lame as f*ck (lame as f*ck)
I'm just, stuck in my way (my way)
Oh, I ain't tryna play with you (with you)
'Cause you my baby (my baby)
Let's hop in the Wraith (oh, oh, oh)
Red bottoms like you stepped up in ketchup (oh, oh)
Act up and a nigga won't let up (no, oh)

Do you want me?
'Cause girl I want you
It's pretty obvious that I wanna put it on you
I can't be waitin''cause I got a girl, I'm datin'
When you wine it on me, girl
Might end in a f*ckin' tsunami
Do you want me?
'Cause girl I want you
It's pretty obvious that I wanna put it on you
I can't be waitin' 'cause I got a girl, I'm datin'
When you wine it on me, girl
Might end in a f*ckin' tsunami
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Barakah Jackson, David Adedeji Adeleke
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Backseat

Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah, yeah (oh-oh)
Oh-oh
Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah, yeah (oh-oh)

Ayy, like here we go, here we go, here we go now
Me and you catchin' fights when it go down
Late nights in Dubai, it's a coupe (skrrt)
Been fallin' fast, can't lie, it's the truth (nah)
Like here we go, here we go, here we go now (here we go)
I swear I feel like I've been here before now
Can you make me cut off all my hoes? (All my hoes)
And I'd rather chill with you than with my bros (all my bros)

So let's get high in the back seat
Park up on the back street behind your house (back street behind your house)
As long as we keep the lights down
And the noise down, they can never find out (I know they will never find out), yeah
So let's get high in the back seat
Park up on the back street, behind your house (back street behind your house)
As long as we keep the lights down
And the noise down, they can never find out (I know they will never find out), yeah

Oh-oh, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah (here we go)
Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah (ayy)
Oh, oh-oh-oh (here we go)
Oh, oh-oh-oh
Oh, oh-oh-oh (here we go)
Oh, oh-oh-oh
(Down, they will never find out)

Look, here we go, baby, here we go
Shawty, why you playin'? I could put your neck on froze
Drip you in designer, we all up in the stores
Gucci on your body, even on your drawers
I swear you got me 'bout to risk it all
Would you be there if I was to fall?
There's some things I gotta know (gotta know)
Girl, can I trust you for sure?
'Cause we can go, smoke dope in the Rolls
Two doors, skrrt-skrrt, takin' off
We can go, anywhere you wanna go
Twist and smoke as you play your role, play your role
Play your role, I might take you home, meet my gang
Show you that I ain't nothin' like these other lames
Shawty, you know you could be my new main
I could put you on some new things

So let's get high in the back seat
Park up on the back street behind your house (back street behind your house)
As long as we keep the lights down
And the noise down, they can never find out (I know they will never find out), yeah
So let's get high in the back seat
Park up on the back street, behind your house (back street behind your house)
As long as we keep the lights down
And the noise down, they can never find out (I know they will never find out), yeah

Oh-oh, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah (here we go)
Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah
Oh, oh-oh-oh (here we go)
Oh, oh-oh-oh
Oh, oh-oh-oh (here we go)
Oh, oh-oh-oh
(Down, they will never find out)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Michael Tucker, Rakim Hasheem Allen
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Imperfections (Interlude)

Alright, catch this real quick

Oh I, oh I

Baby, why you actin' funny towards me?
Baby, I just need some company, company, company
Baby, I just need some company, company, company

You wanna go on a vacay
But you don't ask enough
You just be gettin' mad as f*ck
I give her dick when she actin' up
Baby, you should let me hold you
Let me be the one to, give you everything you want and need
Baby, good love and protection
I love your imperfections
You are my selection
On God

Baby, I just need some company, company, company
Baby, I just need some company, company, company
Baby, I just need some company, company, company
Baby, I just need some company, company, company
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Damil Coste, Joseph Zoumboulias
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






She Feelin Nice

She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice

Long walks on the beach (on the beach)
On the resort, three bedroom suites (resorts)
Rib-eye steak from Phillipe's (from Phillipe's)
In Bahama (Bahama), with an eater (with an eater)
She 'bout to put my face on her tee (on her tee)
I said, "Baby, put your face in my briefs" (in my briefs)
Tell the waitress bring four margaritas (margaritas)
Before I hop on this jet (on a jet)
Jah know I got the keys to success (to success)
No more walkin' with a vest (no more)
All my jewelry is VS (VS)
Pick up my jerk wings in a Phantom (in a Phantom)
Pop a Perky (pop a Perky), start dancin' (start dancin')
No lights, no camera, just vibes (just vibes)

She say she feelin' nice (hey)
She say she feelin' nice (baby)
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice (feelin' nice)
She say she feelin' nice (feelin' nice)
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice

Hold up, wait a minute
I got all these bands in the Goyard
How you wanna spend it?
Can I, put you on the yacht in the ocean?
Get you everything that you see
You ain't gotta worry 'bout nothin'
Shawty, everythin' on me
'Cause I'm tryna get to know ya
Push back then drop it slower
Never want the night to be over
'Cause every time you bend over
Girl, you got a motherf*cker like, "Oh"
Look at your body (oh yeah)
Got my attention
Quarantine ain't a thing when the bill right
F*ck social distancing

She say she feelin' nice (ayy)
She say she feelin' nice (say she feelin' nice)
She say she feelin' nice (oh)
She say she feelin' nice (oh, oh, oh yeah)
She say she feelin' nice
She say she feelin' nice (oh-oh)
She say she feelin' nice (ooh, ooh)
She say she feelin' nice (let's go, let's go, let's go)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Ebony Naomi Oshunrinde, Eric Bishop, James Edward Smith, Lonny Bereal, RD Whittington
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Paranoia

Yeah
Oh, yeah
Oh
Oh, yeah

Paranoia, I'm havin' thoughts in my head
I'm at the party, in Cartier, yeah
Walk in the club with two straps
When I "Woo," "Woo" back
Don't ask who I am, shoot that in my Dior (ooh)

I told her back off 'fore I'm 'bout to catch a body
Bitch, this cooler ain't no f*ckin' Miley Cyrus, Kawasaki (ooh, skrrt)
She gon' ride it like a Harley, niggas hardly gettin' money right now
I told this bitch, "I can't keep up, most of my thoughts in the clouds" (ah, ah, ah, yeah)
Paranoid (geeked), I know some niggas wanna see me gone
Just made twenty mil', I'm tryna f*ckin' enjoy
'Fore you kick my door down and shoot, that's my lil' boy (yeah)
Keep a tool, loose screws, baby (loose screws)
When you "Woo," I'ma "Woo" back (yeah, woo, woo)
Aim at his head (why?)
Put half a mil' on a case and go to bed
Slatt, slatt (yeah), yeah, yeah

Paranoia (slatt), I'm havin' thoughts in my head (yeah)
I'm at the party, in Cartier, yeah
Walk in the club with two straps
When I "Woo," "Woo" back
Don't ask who I am, shoot that (yeah) in my Dior

Mm, I gotta be paranoid
Grippin' that FN, you know the streets at war
Let anyone in, make sure you lock the door
They hate that I'm locked in, you gotta watch your door (watch your door)
I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry (sorry)
Cops pull me over 'cause I'm in a 'Rari (a 'Rari)
Got top off a lil' mama ridin' shotty (shotty)
Me and Woo gon' shake the room, might catch a body (body)
Real niggas, we love to party, like everyday
I bought that bitch a Masi', we two look great
Baby boy in Taraji, I took some molly
Float like I'm Ali, tryna stay sane (yeah)

Paranoia, I'm havin' thoughts in my head
I'm at the party, in Cartier, yeah
Walk in the club with two straps
When I "Woo," "Woo" back
Don't ask who I am, shoot that in my Dior

I just did six days in London, paranoia
Shoot for the stars, aim for the moon
Thoughts in my head, know that I'm Woo
When you see me, you know that I'm Woo
When you see me, you know that I'm Woo

I said paranoia, I got some thoughts in my head
I'm at the party, in Cartier, yeah
Walk in the club with two straps
When I "Woo," "Woo" back
Don't ask who I am, shoot that in my Dior

That's the paranoia, oh, the paranoia
I said I'm paranoid, paranoia
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Andre Michael Loblack, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Jeffrey Williams, Sergio Kitchens
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Hello

(Rico's going crazy again)
Yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah (Uh?)
Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah
Yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah
(CashMoney, CashMoney)

Look, look (AP)
I like my bitches redbone, ass fat, Jell-O
Lightskin, yellow, iced out, hello
I'm the king of New York, Melo
Black hair by the Regis and Pello
Ask around, niggas know me
I'm a Euro boy, Ginóbili
I like my bitches redbone, ass fat, Jell-O
Lightskin, yellow, iced out, hello
I'm the king of New York, Melo
Black hair by the Regis and Pello
Ask around, niggas know me
I'm a Euro boy, Ginóbili

I been so gone, I like redbones
My type light skin, ass fat, Jell-O (huh?)
But bitches be switchin' sides nowadays on the regular
And I never respected it
Money over bitches, I know that's everything
Money over bitches, I know that's hot
Rockin' VVS by Elliot wedding bands
I will never ever give her no wedding ring
.45 on my hip, I ain't fightin' 'em
Chewin' on an Aderall like a vitamin
Niggas pockets be on E
Somethin' they already know but I'm droppin' a T
They makin' up rumors and lies, okay, I'm sick and I'm tired
I'm mighty fatigued, none of my bitches be mine
They coulda been one of yours, but they out of your league
I'ma just call up Fatima, nah, that ain't really her name
But she for the team
I get fly as a bitch, like I looted up
All this money you talkin' ain't new to us (woo)
I'm the king of New York and on God
If Pop was alive there would have been two of us

I like my bitches redbone, ass fat, Jell-O
Lightskin, yellow, iced out, hello
I'm the king of New York, Melo
Black hair by the Regis and Pello
Ask around, niggas know me
I'm a Euro boy, Ginóbili
I like my bitches redbone, ass fat, Jell-O
Lightskin, yellow, iced out, hello
I'm the king of New York, Melo
Black hair by the Regis and Pello
Ask around, niggas know me
I'm a Euro boy, Ginóbili

Look
Pull up like Ace from the cleaners, Ace and el fiends
Pop making movies, sell out arenas
She off the white, talkin' Demi Lovato
All on my denims, since Murder Bravado
AP Audemars wet, Aquafina
Hittin' like Ike, singin' like Tina (woo)
Dior on my body, sneakers got no creases
They limited, baby, tell me if you've seen 'em
My diamonds dancin', paint her face like Marilyn Manson (Marilyn Manson)
Then roll up that Woo, Runtz straight from Cali'
Then get a plate from Sally's
Quano blew his trial, they set him up
These niggas mad as f*ck
You know what I rep, yeah, it's tatted up
You ain't get f*cked, 'cause your ass ain't fat enough
If you talk crazy, get batted up, yeah

I like my bitches redbone, ass fat, Jell-O
Lightskin, yellow, iced out, hello
I'm the king of New York, Melo
Black hair by the Regis and Pello
Ask around, niggas know me
I'm a Euro boy, Ginóbili
I like my bitches redbone, ass fat, Jell-O
Lightskin, yellow, iced out, hello
I'm the king of New York, Melo
Black hair by the Regis and Pello
Ask around, niggas know me
I'm a Euro boy, Ginóbili
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Alex Petit, Artist Julius Dubose, Bashar Jackson, Jason Avalos, Ricardo Lamarre
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Be Clearr

Oh, oh (oh)
Oh, oh (oh)
Let me check in wit' niggas

Long nights (long nights), in the trap (in the trap)
It got a nigga sick (got a nigga sick)
It got a nigga this (got a nigga this), far (far)
Yes it did, yes it did, yes I did (yes I did)
But be clear (be clear)

I just pulled up to TD in I8
If we all getting money than why hate?
Smoove hesi' the renty like, why wait?
We the hottest in the tri-state
My niggas gon' raise up the crime rate
If you try to play wit' me
So don't play wit' me (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pull up to the party, gasoline
Who's coming in? Like all of us
I'm from a town where we pour the Henny in double cups
It's enough Henny for all of us
We getting money we mix the Buscemi wit' all of the Fendi designer stuff
I, just pulled 20K (20K), I've been getting my way (way)
Top down in the Wraith (Wraith), baddie giving me face (face)
AP from the touch down (touch down), I just pulled from a Chase (Chase)
Shout out my lawyer (my lawyer), he just beat my case (my case)

Long nights (long nights), in the trap (in the trap)
It got a nigga sick (got a nigga sick)
It got a nigga this (got a nigga this), far (far)
Yes it did, yes it did, yes I did (yes I did)
But be clear (be clear)

Be clear when I say, "In Allah I got faith"
I ain't jackin' a lot of you niggas
Got the ice on my neck call me Bobby Boucher, reach and I pull the trigger
I don't care who fake I f*ck wit' the real
I roll around wit' my hitters, hitters, hitters, hitters

Be clear when I say, "In Allah I got faith"
I ain't jackin' a lot of you niggas
Got the ice on my neck call me Bobby Boucher, reach and I pull the trigger
I don't care who fake I f*ck wit' the real
I roll around wit' my hitters, hitters, hitters, hitters

Long nights (long nights), in the trap (in the trap)
It got a nigga sick (got a nigga sick)
It got a nigga this (got a nigga this), far (far)
Yes it did, yes it did, yes I did (yes I did)
But be clear (be clear)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Gerail Harvey
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., EMPIRE PUBLISHING






Yea Yea (Remix)

(Yeah) uh-huh, uh-huh
(Yeah) uh, uh, uh-huh
Yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, look

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Let me tell you why the opp niggas hate me (hate me)
'Cause I rock the nation, Jay-Z (Jay-Z)
Baby, baby (baby)
Baby, how the f*ck can you play me? Ah (play me)
Walk with it, never walk without it (oh)
Shoot a nigga, never talk about it (shoot)
Sold out shows, yeah we tee'd up (tee'd up)
Christian Dior for the sneaker (sneakers)
And it's 10k for the feature (feature)
Take your bitch home, I eat her (I eat her)
Wanna play games? Got the heat and the rocket
Say the wrong thing, I'ma pop it (pop it)
I'm a big dog, you ain't know though (know though)
Gunshot, forward (forward)
Headshot, lower (lower)
I shoot a nigga then roll up (roll up)
Rollie on my wrist, gun up on my hip (gun up on my hip)
Please don't say the wrong thing
You could get (could get) hit (hit)
I f*ck with the bloods but I'm rip, huh (no shit)
I'm big 092, nigga, Woo, huh (Woo)
Know I had the guns in the school (in the school)
Lil' nigga, don't act like a fool (fool)
I leave that pussy wet, like a pool (pool)

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Everything's signed, it's sealed
Baby girl, let me know if your love is real
Is it real? Is it real?
'Cause if it ain't, I gotta go (go)
These are things I gotta know (know)
Walk outside, I keep a pole (pole)
I've been wildin' on the roads (yeah, yeah)
Did 20k all in a day (day)
Put some money in the safe (in the safe)
Gave five to my lawyer (oh)
Then I went and backed the Wraith (the Wraith)
Catch a body out the Tesla (oh)
Know the Woo's do it better (ooh)
If I don't got it, I'ma take it (take it)
'Cause a nigga gotta eat (eat)
This my life, no fakin' (no)
Yeah, I'm really in the streets (yeah, I'm really in the streets)
All these pussy niggas hatin'
I sit back and sip a tea (sip a tea)
I order steak on my lobster (ooh)
Bon appétit (bon appétit)
I drop 50k off to Sam (Sam)
Patek Philippe

It's a whole lotta Glocks (Glocks)
Mops (mops), TECs (TECs)
Shots (shots), thots (thots)
Knots (knots), rocks (rocks)
Ooters, ooters (ooters)
Shooters (shooters), shooters
Rugers (Rugers), Rugers
Know a nigga cooler than a cooler (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, oh, oh-oh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Akyol Hakan, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Joseph Boyden
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Diana (Remix)

Here's to you for givin' me a chance
(Oh, oh)

Uh, shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your, uh
Shorty, light-skinned, tatted, huh, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your style

Baby, we could take it all away
Fast whips, cash trips, ass crisp
Yeah, you know I got it (what you want?)
Bad bitch, mad thick, high fashion
I don't need a stylist, I'm him
Get you there, I could fly you in (uh-huh, uh-huh)
Bad bitches, they be eyein' him (say what?)
Heard I be with Smoke and them (skrrt, skrrt)
Shake it (shake it), talk that shit you was talkin' (talkin')
Hit it from the back wit' her archin' (wit' her archin')
Have her leavin' with a limp when she walkin' (when she walkin')
I don't care if she light-skin or dark-skin (I don't care)
Pussy watery, slippery, caution
Had to murder it, put it in a coffin (damn)
"Chris, I love you," I hear that so often

Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your, uh
Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your style

I ain't gon' lie, I need you (woo)
Don't let me in it (don't let me in it)
I might just breed you, look (I might just breed you, okay)
She said she wanna be a teacher
Damn, in my head, she would look good as a teacher (teacher)
She would look good as a teacher (teacher), uh
Treat her with Balenciaga sneakers (oh)
Please her, baby, let me eat you
Home run, home run like Jeter (Jeter)
Don't make me catch you cheatin', beat her (bad boy)
RIP Capo, pull up in Tahoe
She said, "Oh, her brother's Wooin'" (Woo)
She said she's seen me around (yup)
She said she love what I'm doin' (I love it)
She said, "Do you remember me?" (Me)
"You was a friend to me"
We start talkin' sexually, it's been a while

Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, huh, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your, uh
Shorty, light-skinned (woo), tatted, huh, ass fat (grrt)
I need your number and that's that (that's that)
I need your number and that's that (huh)
Black hair, bob, nice teeth, smile
I like your style, I like your style
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Anthony Blagmon, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Christian Combs, Pierre Richard Rene, Calvin Woods
Copyright: Lyrics © SOAR MUSIC GROUP, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Enjoy Yourself (Remix)

Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uh
Ooh (yeah)
Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uh
Ooh, ooh
Ooh, ooh
Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-uh
Ooh, ooh, ooh
(Palaze, what you cookin'?)
Look, look

You don't gotta put your cup down, hol' on (ooh)
Drink freely (yeah) and holla at me if you need me (ooh)
Baby, you should enjoy yourself (ooh)
Bossed up, need no help, look (ooh)
They say, "Fly girls have more fun" (more fun, more fun)
So what? so you should enjoy yourself, yeah, yeah
You should enjoy yourself (ooh)

It's a room full of trap niggas (trap), strap niggas (strap)
If the opps run up in this shit, we gon' clap niggas (oh)
Woo niggas, huh (huh), some slatt niggas (slatt)
Pockets feel like a fat nigga (ooh)
Shopping up in Saks Fifth with a cup of Actavis to get Christian Dior
Look, I be all up in the stores (oh, oh)
Young nigga, I can buy you what you want (yeah, yeah, yeah)
She got a fat ass, shorty shaped like Serena (oh, ooh)
Long hair, brown eyes, shorty look like Selena (Selena)
Shorty said that she was Puerto Rican (Rican)
Her pussy wet like Katrina (Katrina, Katrina)
Oh, 2-10 on the dashboard (dash)
Shorty, be clear what you ask for
And she got that get right, mama
And I gotta get my baby
Listen, I don't want no problems (I don't want)
I just want my baby (look, look)

You don't gotta put your cup down, hold on (ooh)
Drink freely (yeah) and holla at me if you need me (ooh)
Baby, you should enjoy yourself (ooh)
Bossed up, need no help, look (ooh)
They say, "Fly girls have more fun" (more fun, more fun)
So what? so you should enjoy yourself, yeah, yeah (yeah)
You should enjoy yourself

Me monto en el Phantom, bebé, prendo el booster (ah)
Me gasté cinco mil en un bustier (sí, sí)
To' high fashion, haute couture
Si no ere' tú, otros hombres me aburren (yeah, yeah)
Los moños flow Mulán, de camino a Milán (de camino a Milán)
Tresciento' mil por un show, eso me dan (eso me dan)
Montamo' junto' en el Can-Am (huh)
Por mí él forma una guerra como en Irán
Yo tengo má' flow que el Fashion Week
Diamante' esmeralda como la weed (eh)
Follamo' en mi cama y le damo' repeat
Eso e' lo má' que le gusta de mí

Soltera anda como Rihanna (Rihanna)
Aunque con él se viene (ey)
Todo' quieren una colombiana (sí)
Pero él ya la tiene
Está soltera, anda como Rihanna (ey)
Aunque con él se viene (yeah)
Todo' quieren una colombiana (sí)
Pero él ya la tiene (look, look)

You don't gotta put your cup down, hol' on
Drink freely (yeah) and holla at me if you need me
Baby, you should enjoy yourself
Bossed up, need no help, look
They say, "Fly girls have more fun" (more fun, more fun)
So what? so you should enjoy yourself, yeah, yeah (yeah)
You should enjoy yourself

I won't kiss and tell
Just buy you Chanel
Always roll you up, put H's on your belt

Uh-huh, uh-uh-huh
Uh-huh, uh-uh-huh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bashar Barakah Jackson, Carolina Navarro, Christoffer Marcussen, Lucas Grob
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Back to: Pop Smoke


Performed By: Pop Smoke
Genre(s): Drill, trap, R&B
Released: July 20th, 2020
Year: 2020

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