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 #

capital steez, nyck caution & joey bada$ - gwood lyrics

[intro: nyck caution, joey badass & capital st++z]
yeah (what? what? what?)
nyck caution (swag)
and j+o (let go)
and they know

[verse 1: capital st++z, joey badass & nyck caution]
it’s like eeny, meeny, miny, moe
i’m tryna find a flow to spit it next
you incorrect for thinkin’ i be finished yet
smith & wesson if they thinkin’ of disrespect
the shine like the n+gga that was walkin’ in biggie’ steps (it’s bad boy)
the internet fanbase barely had a taste
comin’ for them carrots, i’m runnin’ it on a rabbit race
the yellow tape alone had us breakin’ bones
gettin’ wavy with plenty hoes, beggin’ to take us home (take us home)
now wе amsterdam kushin’
ziploc stash got us sandwich bag pushin’
swagged out, cookin’ (swag)
double that, smokin’ ’til our lungs collapsе
and we gotta come with that good sh+t
homie, i been up on this brooklyn tip
had to start saggin’ ’cause them skinny jeans couldn’t fit
i heard he actin’ up and can’t back it up
i’ll have my mans air it out, asthma pump
[verse 2: nyck caution & joey badass]
i’m raw like sushi
these haters wanna shoot me (baow)
because i’m wearin’ gucci or i’m in your b+tch’s coochie
i got clips, no movies (no)
these chips, no cookies (no)
and i’m k!llin’ in this game, your boy is still a rookie
the heater in your hands (baow), i know you tryna cook me
the school of swag, b+tch, i ain’t never playin’ hookie (go to class)
uh, i’m just bodyin’ your mans
stack so big, what, you thought i had a shotty in my pants? (nah)
but you haters keep duckin’ me
crowd keep lovin’ me
i love it when i hold your b+tch’s hair while she suckin’ me
this could get ugly (ew)
girls keep f+ckin’ me (yup)
fights over caution got every b+tch tuggin’ me
yeah i’m steppin’ up (step up), but i ain’t doin no dance
shake that ass back and forth, got my head in a trance (what?)
this sh+t is funny, i’m tryna f+ck, she want to romance (swag)
i keep it gully, you know i got the loot in my pants
i got some hookah from france (hookah)
bazooka your mans (‘zooka)
chrome to his dome, now there’s p++p in his pants (ew; haha)
he sayin’, “give me a chance” (yeah)
i blow him straight out the sky (it’s j+o), good riddance
[verse 3: joey bada$$]
uh, aw sh+t, chain pop, you done unleashed the beast out
i keep a tight circle with the elastic of a speedo
i’m ballin’ up on free+throw, n+ggas watch you like a peep show
gettin’ dome, i’m hittin’ home, feelin’ like the great bambino
n+ggas talk, but talk is cheap, so i don’t even give a sh+t
groupie chicks complain how i never give ’em d+ck
it’s mr. too cool, rockin’ my glasses
since kindergarten, girls linin’ in front of my classes
i think better on my toilet, my n+gga, i’m used to sh+ttin’ on ’em
and i be sh+ttin’ on ’em even when i’m p+ssin’ on ’em
haters be dissin’ on him
groupie broads be kissin’ on him
can’t stop his flame, even if the air conditioner on him
and that’s real, don’t know how fake feel
i know she the one if i think of being
but just because i think doesn’t mean i’m for real
four dollars in my pocket, tryna make it four mil’
’cause i don’t have enough, my n+gga, for one meal
the devil told me come, but i told him, “no deal”
i’ma stay right here with my lord up in the sky
they tell me i can’t do it, lord, know i’ma try
you talkin’ like you big with the heart of a midget
that ain’t how you built, my n+gga, now is it?

tryna fly with me, i’m pigeon and you ostrich, n+gga

- capital steez nyck caution joey bada lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS