a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

blac youngsta - poking out lyrics

[intro]
yeah
woo
woah, woah
uh, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
woah, woah, woah

[verse]
gimme what you got on this app (uh, uh), make that p+ssy bounce (uh)
what that p+ssy ’bout? make it clap (uh, uh), put that p+ssy en route(uh)
she told me to come, i said, “over?” she said in her mouth
all of these hoes fake and i stamp it, it’s a f+ckin’ drought (uh)
all of these hoes f+ck in the car, they f+ck on the couch (uh)
i told her, “put that ass in the air,” p+ssy pokin’ out (woah)
p+ssy pokin’ out, pokin’ out, p+ssy pokin’ out (p+ssy pokin’ out)
they p+ssy, on 5, fire department, put that p+ssy out (yeah)
ooh, i got the juice, you know i got the f+ckin’ juice (know i got that juice)
i got so much juice, i can spill some juice on you (spill that juice on you)
i’m fed up in this b+tch with one b+tch, but i might leave with two
i’m the type to f+ck my lil’ b+tch whole crew (crew, crew, crew)
“one day i’ll grow up and i will sit courtside like you” (you, you, you)
ain’t no need for hatin’ on no n+gga, you can run your money up too (too, too, too)
ain’t no need for waitin’ on no n+gga when the family dependin’ on you (you, you)
if you go out bad then they gon’ fall on you (gang, gang)
i come from the trenches where them young n+ggas pull down, blow you out yo’ shoes (bah, bah, bah)
young n+gga pull down, ho you out yo’ sh+t and take you out yo’ coupe (gimme that)
901, i’m talkin’ memphis sh+t, they give your ass the blues
why you cuffin’ that lil’ ho? she ran through
freaky b+tch (go), lil’ nasty b+tch (go), man, my b+tch be on nasty sh+t (go)
i’m the type, don’t wanna save the b+tch, i’m tryna pass the b+tch (gang, gang)
i might buy that ho somethin’ if she don’t try come and ask me sh+t (go)
get whatever you want (go), she get what she want, she don’t ask for sh+t (go)
she boss as sh+t but she pop her sh+t ’cause she work for it (okay, okay)
she want some d+ck, if i don’t give it to her, she gon’ have a fit (okay, okay)
i dropped a b+tch, told her, “find another n+gga to argue with”
i’m the type of n+gga, can’t stand no lazy b+tch, they’ll lie for sh+t
ain’t got sh+t for no lazy b+tch, they might try to f+ck me out my cash (woah, woah)
i’m rich as f+ck, i’m up for grabs, i’m fresh as f+ck like fab’ (woah, woah, woah)
i keep somethin’ big on my waist so you know that i can’t sag (blrrt)
‘fore i run out of money, b+tch, you gon’ run out of gas

- blac youngsta lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS