What If? - Reemo: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

What If?

34

Hip-Hop/Rap

What If? was released on June 13, 2025 by Reemo as a part of the album Point Got Points (Deluxe)

Song Details

AlbumPoint Got Points (Deluxe)

Release DateJune 13, 2025

LabelReemo

LanguageEnglish

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM103

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Reemoo

Performer

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Reemoo

Lyrics

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

MVMBO

Producer

1Hvrlo

Producer

Lyrics

Hoop or Die, and we snatched Doe eye (Doe)

Doe (Doe)

Point-, Hoop or Die (And we snatched Doe eye)

Doe, Doe, and we snatched- (I be thinkin')

And we snatched ****- (what if I don't make it out trenches)

Hoop or-

I was really- (what if I dont make it out the trenches)

I was really thinkin', like what if I don't (make it out the trenches)

I was really thinkin', what if I don't make it out the trench?

But then again, that ain't even making sense

I took risks, I ain't never bitch, it was tense

Starting player, you ain't even make it off the bench

I threw the gang a touchdown, like I'm Wentz

I done seen a head crack, what i meant

Cookin' yola, now the whole trap got a stench

Chubby pockets, and this 19 made me limp

I'm in the stu', I just left a **** drenched

Lampin' out, you ever turn a johnny to a tent?

My brother want your head-

If we want you dead, we gon go the furthest of extent

They really love my sound, this ain't the shit these **** used to

Where your jersey? You know this the music you could hoop to

Sex Murder, fill the 'Miri pockets up with DooDoo

****, fill the 'Miri denim up with dog shit

I got a scale and razor, I don't got no gloves, get my hands dirty

This money calling, I don't care about no residue

My custy reup more than me, like fuck you sellin' too?

Doe, if you can hear this song, we inhaling you

Rollin' Doe, I'm smoking Doe until my lungs pop

Badass, turned his grandma crib to a gun shop

Pop your door, let the button roll until the front stop

Your cerebrum, shoot you in that shit just ask that one opp

If you ain't the boss at that table, you an asset

Trap money, turned a tuned car and some ass cat

I make racks rapping, count your whole stash, I been had that

Roll 'em in, use a bad bitch, and her ass fat

Strike the Vs, we got different keys, watch me change the Benz

Them **** think its dyin' down, let's do that shit again

Countin' B's, growing money trees, I could fill up Ben

This **** trolling on the dead, we did that shit to him

Biggest hooper, I'm the first pick in my draft class

The way we bouncin' out with yops, just like Baghdad

Got me pulling out my belt, like a bad dad

And we got Doe, from the pound, to the half bag

I ain't complain about them cards that I was dealt

When everybody leave you, I can tell you how it felt

I was raised right, how I attach a face to my belt?

I got 10 names, all this fuckin' blood that got nailed

I was walkin' in the rain, thunderstorms- what

I was walkin' in the rain, thunderstorms, I was all alone

Ummi kicked me out again, since I was being grown

I let the Milli' shake the room, I thought I broke a bone

Your ass a cluck, you think you killin' but you got a phone

That bitch ain't even look my way before your boy was known

It be the bitch that get you cooked that you was making bone

I be thinkin', what if I don't make it out the trench?

But then again, that ain't even making sense

I took risks, I ain't never bitch, it was tense

Starting player, you ain't even make it off the bench

I threw the gang a touchdown, like I'm Wentz

I done seen a head crack, what i meant

Cookin' yola, now the whole trap got a stench

Chubby pockets, and this 19 made me limp

Written by: Reemoo

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