Ayy, Desco, what you cookin' up
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Sayin' I'm a bad guy, I don't know what that is
What the f*ck
I don't know what that is
Sayin' I'm a bad guy, I don't know what that is
Tryna get my pape up, you just tryna act rich
You be postin' screenshots, you ain't never stack shit
Package landed early, had to hurry up and bag it
This shit is slo mo, but this hellcat still the fastest
Can't be my bitch, I heard you comin' with some baggage
Man, I love countin' money, I need my bills face up
She said she only f*ck with tricks, but it ain't take much
I hate a bitch who love to talk but be a fake slut
Said watch the ones you call your bros, they love to change up, yeah
You ain't make pape when on the road
Yeah
You ain't make pape when on the road, so why you comin' back
We keep him on us in the car, we got another Strap
Man, how the f*ck is you the plug, you never touched a rack
We got that shit gone fast as f*ck, I need another pack
That bow you got, it never sold, ain't even smokin' that
You never dropped a check, so why the f*ck you postin' that
You talkin' three peats but I ain't never seen you win a chip
These bitches bad as f*ck, no, I don't know which one I'm finna pick
I'm with the rugratz, ATL, hope it's a pint that I can sip
I'm mad as f*ck, man, Aaron Rodgers really sold my f*ckin' slip
I need a bow, remember days when I was smokin' out the zip
Yo striker old my dog he in some shit that you can't even get
You hit the road and you don't bring no pros
It's money that you spend, I hit the road
And I come back with more shit than I ever did
I pulled a 20 out of chase this like the third one I did this month
Man, why she talkin' bout a f*ck, she know I only want my dick sucked
Pulled a 20 out of chase this like the third one I did this month
You said you ballin, you don't even see the court when playin' pick up
WhoIsSimba - Bad Guy Lyrics
WhoIsSimba - Bad Guy Lyrics
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English
Ayy, Desco, what you cookin' up
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Sayin' I'm a bad guy, I don't know what that is
What the f*ck
I don't know what that is
Sayin' I'm a bad guy, I don't know what that is
Tryna get my pape up, you just tryna act rich
You be postin' screenshots, you ain't never stack shit
Package landed early, had to hurry up and bag it
This shit is slo mo, but this hellcat still the fastest
Can't be my bitch, I heard you comin' with some baggage
Man, I love countin' money, I need my bills face up
She said she only f*ck with tricks, but it ain't take much
I hate a bitch who love to talk but be a fake slut
Said watch the ones you call your bros, they love to change up, yeah
You ain't make pape when on the road
Yeah
You ain't make pape when on the road, so why you comin' back
We keep him on us in the car, we got another Strap
Man, how the f*ck is you the plug, you never touched a rack
We got that shit gone fast as f*ck, I need another pack
That bow you got, it never sold, ain't even smokin' that
You never dropped a check, so why the f*ck you postin' that
You talkin' three peats but I ain't never seen you win a chip
These bitches bad as f*ck, no, I don't know which one I'm finna pick
I'm with the rugratz, ATL, hope it's a pint that I can sip
I'm mad as f*ck, man, Aaron Rodgers really sold my f*ckin' slip
I need a bow, remember days when I was smokin' out the zip
Yo striker old my dog he in some shit that you can't even get
You hit the road and you don't bring no pros
It's money that you spend, I hit the road
And I come back with more shit than I ever did
I pulled a 20 out of chase this like the third one I did this month
Man, why she talkin' bout a f*ck, she know I only want my dick sucked
Pulled a 20 out of chase this like the third one I did this month
You said you ballin, you don't even see the court when playin' pick up
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Sayin' I'm a bad guy, I don't know what that is
What the f*ck
I don't know what that is
Sayin' I'm a bad guy, I don't know what that is
Tryna get my pape up, you just tryna act rich
You be postin' screenshots, you ain't never stack shit
Package landed early, had to hurry up and bag it
This shit is slo mo, but this hellcat still the fastest
Can't be my bitch, I heard you comin' with some baggage
Man, I love countin' money, I need my bills face up
She said she only f*ck with tricks, but it ain't take much
I hate a bitch who love to talk but be a fake slut
Said watch the ones you call your bros, they love to change up, yeah
You ain't make pape when on the road
Yeah
You ain't make pape when on the road, so why you comin' back
We keep him on us in the car, we got another Strap
Man, how the f*ck is you the plug, you never touched a rack
We got that shit gone fast as f*ck, I need another pack
That bow you got, it never sold, ain't even smokin' that
You never dropped a check, so why the f*ck you postin' that
You talkin' three peats but I ain't never seen you win a chip
These bitches bad as f*ck, no, I don't know which one I'm finna pick
I'm with the rugratz, ATL, hope it's a pint that I can sip
I'm mad as f*ck, man, Aaron Rodgers really sold my f*ckin' slip
I need a bow, remember days when I was smokin' out the zip
Yo striker old my dog he in some shit that you can't even get
You hit the road and you don't bring no pros
It's money that you spend, I hit the road
And I come back with more shit than I ever did
I pulled a 20 out of chase this like the third one I did this month
Man, why she talkin' bout a f*ck, she know I only want my dick sucked
Pulled a 20 out of chase this like the third one I did this month
You said you ballin, you don't even see the court when playin' pick up
Writer: Simbaa R
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid