album cover
Mr. P
album cover
Mr. P was released on April 15, 2022 by Lightsonmusic as a part of the album Saint Petersburg Voice
April 15, 2022
LabelLightsonmusic
LanguageEnglish
BPM
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy

Music Video

Music Video

Lyrics

(CashMoneyAP)
Shots of a Henny on a table, just to feel like we in New York
We gotta’ Glocks, we got .47’s, became a superstar on a block
Mr. President of my country, we gotta’ whole ‘lotta cities in smoke
Feel like I’m resident in my country, ‘cause I know I never be broke
Scam on your face
Lil’ bitch, scam is all about money
Rra-rra like it’s a Rari race
Check is all about a hunnids
Our money came from nuthin’
Real G blood on money
You ‘gotta bullet in your body
And we hear the beat we flyin’
Smokin Zaza you got Zara
And you say like it’s a Prada
Put a Chanel on my mama
I’m not in Vegas but I’m a Stunna
(Stunna-stunna)
Dollars on head like Gunna
My Mandem, I ain’t never gon’ run out
Children buying their death on H****
Ideas comin’ to me, I say Bingo
Got more weight on me, like King-Kong
Plug walk turned me dancin’ a moon walk
Runaway from my hatters, now my turn
Less than M, can’t speak with you, ho
Ain’t no way I can turn down
Jump up, like im in Jordan’s
Me and a beat
Like Blueface and a bitch
When I enter those rooms
I know, it’s gonna be a hitch
Master of horror, like my name is Hitchcock
My birds gon’ kill you, fucking snitch
Sticks are deadly, like Lilo and Stitch
Told my dad ‘I’m gonna be rich’
Me and no b-hang?
It must’ve been a glitch
Dolla’ on dolla’
My girl is Lola, Lola
Throw hundreds: Marco Polo
No bitch, it’s not just soda
Bro, I’m crazy, like Deidara
Run to your block to fuck your mother
She loved my dick so much
She doesn’t care about her lover
Lil boy, I use no lighter
I burn my spliff with lava
I told that slut “no drama”
Yeah, hmm, Saint Petersburg Voice
Bitches call me Russo Pablo
My car goes fast, ‘cause dealers want my cargo
10 thousands, that’s the price, bro
And all I need is skrilla
Big money, like i’m drillah
You got a rack in your jeans, that’s why we gonna’ hit ya
You mess with our issues and we ain’t gonna’ leave ya
Shots of a Henny on a table, just to feel like we in New York
We gotta Glocks, we got .47’s, became a superstar on a block
Mr. President of my country, we gotta’ whole ‘lotta cities in smoke
Feel like I’m resident in my country, ‘cause I know, I never be broke
I don’t know these thots they be actin’ like they’re real groopies
I manage my squad, fuck a lames actin’ like they goofies
Put your bones on a shelve, like your body is a trophy
Fuck your baby mama is a hell, I don’t like her way of moving
Real life is a movie
Real life is a
Ain’t no from London, from what?
Gotta’ same mandem
Rollin Loud is a tandem
Yeah, I wonder
If your bitch jump under
And I make her meet a maker
Talk to me nice, ‘cause I know you are slatter
Broskies they pull up on Rari’s and Tesla’s
Got more fans than Restlers
Don’t fuck with ‘em brokes
They gon’ be arrested
I take all your hoes and nuthin’ can happen
Ballin’ like Scottie, they call me Pippen
Percs kill ‘em slowly, but they gonna’ rip ‘em
Birkin, Birkin on Birkin on Birkin
YSL, 9, Dior and Moncler
Written by: Lightson, Young Adonis

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