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bris - big bloody lyrics

[intro]
(brrt)
(brrt, stick ’em, ha+ha+ha, stick ’em)

[verse 1: ebk young joc]
i got magic, the work doin’ backflips (tada)
baby, how you do that dance again? it’s fantastic (ayy)
kd off a thizz, it’s a double, got him smackin’ (got him smackin’)
in a foreign zoomin’, told him slow down ‘fore you bag it (skrrt)
big booty b+tch, d+mn right i wanna grab it (uh+huh)
i know it ain’t legit, bro, that’s plastic (ayy)
play with any of the apes, wildlife, no jurassic
i ain’t in it for the clout, baby boy, you can have it
watch him stop, drop, and roll, fire drill when we blast him
this n+gga takin’ pictures, quick to flash him (quick to flash him)
put red beams on you, n+gga, we ain’t laser taggin’
sn+tch a snitch up, no kidnappin’, snitch+nappin’

[verse 2: bris]
ayy, i be runnin’ to that chicken, i put them bands first (put them bands first)
countin’ money and shootin’ guns make my hands hurt (bah+bah+bah)
joc geekin’, thirty hangin’ out his man+purse (see that thirty)
finger f+ck the fully switch and make the slam squirt
when lil’ baby hear my verse, she start squirt creamin’ (gon’ squirt cream)
think i’m finna flirt, i’m off these percs geekin’ (i’m off thеse percs geekin’)
you ain’t with that sh+t, you just turned dеmon (turned demon)
matter fact, i don’t even think you turnt, even (not really)
big pole hangin’ out like a screwdriver (like a screwdriver)
gettin’ sucked up in this low, they don’t know who drivin’ (they like, “who drivin’?”)
n+gga squeeze banana pills like i’m food fightin’ (like i’m food fightin’)
up the glock and catch a faceshot like 42 eiffel (ayy, free eiffel)
ayy, you see that pipe up in my hands, it’s not karaoke (not karaoke)
gotta keep it in my pants, gotta carry on me (gotta carry on me)
you gon’ need like eighty hands, it’s a pair of 40 (he gon’ need some hands)
probably knock your eyes off for all that starin’, homie
you know the clip chubby (ayy)
lil’ bris and b+dawg’s baby pit puppies (baby pit puppies)
all these blues in my pocket, but i’m big bloodin’ (but i’m big bloodin’)
she want them bands, it’s not a question if the b+tch love me (b+tch cute)
[verse 3: mac j]
ayy, put me in, coach, boy, it’s game time (huh?)
sh+t, flip phone bangin’ like a gang sign (on god)
ayy, b+tch steady choosin’, and she ain’t mine (no way)
n+ggas hatin’, boy, i heard it through the grapevine (uh+huh)
hold on, ayy, who you told on? (uh+huh)
snitch jacket, i can’t never put that coat on (n+ggas rat)
i ain’t hungry, i just ate an oxycodone (ayy)
homies turn to suckers, i don’t know who i should blow on, ayy
and all that pump fakin’, better cut it out (better cut it out)
’cause that look you n+ggas havin’ really runnin’ out (on god)
if we pull up on your street, you know we jumpin’ out (say what?)
i’ll quaratine your house, you know we shut it down (stupid)

- bris lyrics

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