bbg baby joe – pussy lyrics
[intro]
drum dummie
ayy, say look, check this out, lil’ b-tch, you
we hit the club, you heard me?
i’m full of drugs and i’ll do you
[chorus]
we hit the club fresh to death, but we strapped down with heaters
say lil’ p-ssy, you be lookin’ p-ssy, you don’t wanna meet ’em
you out your mind, you can’t f-ck with us, lil’ boy, we ain’t equal
and all my n-ggas tote them sticks but b can shoot it better
we hit the club fresh to death, but we strapped down with heaters
say lil’ p-ssy, you be lookin’ p-ssy, you don’t wanna meet
you out your mind, you can’t f-ck with us, lil’ boy, we ain’t equal
and all my n-ggas tote them sticks but b can shoot it better
[verse 1]
on the block with no shirt on, he strapped up with that heater
all ten, he hit the k, he gon’ dig if he see the people
i see an opp, he do him dirty, got thirty stuffed in the nina
don’t give a f-ck about the people, i catch ’em, i leave ’em
and i been doin’ this sh-t for a long time
sit back and hit charade and won’t, i’m ridin’ behind mine
sh-t, i do magic with the draco, sh-t i step and blow
sh-t throw me back, two by two, i’m on the road, ho
and we don’t get checked at the door, tyda snuck in the pole
we did it boppin’, do our thing, and we rock all the shows
and i ain’t goin’ back and forth, lil’ b-tch know we can roll
i hit your city, any state, b-tch, i be throwin’ fours
[chorus]
we hit the club fresh to death, but we strapped down with heaters
say lil’ p-ssy, you be lookin’ p-ssy, you don’t wanna meet ’em
you out your mind, you can’t f-ck with us, lil’ boy, we ain’t equal
and all my n-ggas tote them sticks but b can shoot it better
we hit the club fresh to death, but we strapped down with heaters
say lil’ p-ssy, you be lookin’ p-ssy, you don’t wanna meet
you out your mind, you can’t f-ck with us, lil’ boy, we ain’t equal
and all my n-ggas tote them sticks but b can shoot it better
[verse 2]
i love to entertain that bullsh-t, i been on that messy sh-t
mom ain’t raised no ho, ain’t got no mind, n-gga know we can hit
all that instagram thuggin’, he get likes, he really bought sh-t
in that water behind my brothers, we spin billies, then we pop sh-t
n-gga got off one ’cause he heard they put twelve in they mix
wonder why every time a n-gga die, yeah, that gang that nick
all that cappin’ in them songs, that’s what make them b-tches hit
and we don’t do all that talkin’, he pull up, then i’ma send a blitz
and we renamed this b-tch, it’s called that gang gang regular
we hit the club fresh to death, them hoes be d-ck grabbin’
lil’ partner, he for play, hold my shirt, please don’t grab me
inside shows, don’t play outside, it’s gon’ get nasty
[chorus]
we hit the club fresh to death, but we strapped down with heaters
say lil’ p-ssy, you be lookin’ p-ssy, you don’t wanna meet ’em
you out your mind, you can’t f-ck with us, lil’ boy, we ain’t equal
and all my n-ggas tote them sticks but b can shoot it better
we hit the club fresh to death, but we strapped down with heaters
say lil’ p-ssy, you be lookin’ p-ssy, you don’t wanna meet
you out your mind, you can’t f-ck with us, lil’ boy, we ain’t equal
and all my n-ggas tote them sticks but b can shoot it better
Random Lyrics
- esa aka el presidente – i gladiatori della dancehall lyrics
- roy hall – three alley cats lyrics
- roberta flack – killing me softly with his song lyrics
- tωm unit – νιόνιος σπιντ (nionios spint) lyrics
- duke shozi – flexing lyrics
- daniel kvammen – daue fugla lyrics
- cry of the afflicted – the influence of false pretense lyrics
- jennifer rostock – wer hätte das gedacht lyrics
- andrew pacheco – right back together lyrics
- cd9 – ángel cruel – en vivo lyrics