Lyrics

Tell a pussy boy Pull up, Pull up, Pull up, Pull up, Pull up Aye Breaking bad, Breaking bad homie Breaking bad homie Boy you sad homie Put a bag in your head homie You a lil homie Ima Grownie You ain't gotta know me You ain't gotta know me Ima show me Ima have to show you Ima have to show you Let you know me Pop Three benzos Feeling like the shit hoe Give your bitch the biz tho Let her sniff the disco Im the only rapper Crack your head like nabisco Im the only rapper Trapping taxing What it hitting for Double back around Like to see em on the ground Tell my main to hold it down Now she ride with the pounds Four pound on my hip Ridding thru dogg pound You can fucking get these hands If you want it they come round Ima dog, Ima dog Let your ass fucking see Ima woof, Ima woof Yappa barking up a tree Pull that choppa out the back And let that bitch fucking ring Pull that choppa out the back And let that bitch fucking sing Ima heart attack Waiting to happen Like bitch whats happening Have lil mal go kill your family I promise it d make me happy If you see me pussy clap me Im clapping back At you bastards My Glock is a fully plastic Im plastered passing the package Ima Walk away Walk this way Walk Walk Walk this way Talking this way Boy you fucking know you lame Ain't got time for no games You gone have to miss me Ima Breaking bad homie Get a bag homie Bitch you sad Hoe you make me laugh Boy you sad Why you sad homie Breaking bad homie Break ya back homie For the bag Boy this shit a blast Choppa dance Break ya back homie Breaking bad homie Got a bag on me All in cash You gone make me blast Thats your ass Choppa dance homie Breaking bad homie Got it bad You ain't bad homie Bouta put a bag on ya head Break ya back homie Walk, Walk Walk This way Walk, Walk Walk this way Walk, Walk Walk this way All these pussies Make me laugh homie Tommy in the trunk Tell a bitch run it up Hoes in the game Tryna give me that love I dont need no love I dont really give a fuck Pop another addy You ain't never adding up Dripping sauce All in your fucking mouth All this clout And im still up in the south 40K in the booth right now Ive been high Smoking on gorilla glue right now I got purp on me Percs on me Who gone get this work for me Tell ya bitch to twerk for me She gone get this hurt Ima dog, Ima dog But you already know Ima woof, Ima woof Let this bitch fucking go Lord Knows. Lord Knows. Lord Knows. Make a bitch bite down on the floor Make a bitch bite down on the floor Let it go.
Writer(s): Joshua Marchetta Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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