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 #

itsmanman - wealthy mutts lyrics

[intro]
(hombre made the beat, d+mn it)
hm

[chorus]
what the f+ck that n+gga say? hm, stop cappin’
i just heard your last tape, you need to stop rappin’
chiefin’ jacket, awful lot of chili, this some good fabric
you ain’t really from the streets, you just a good rapper
mvp, b+tch, i been great since knee high
in the a, tryna make her roller skate like t.i
caught him out, if we spot him, then we got him, beatbox
i’m a wealthy mutt, four+eight+two+one+four, the eastside

[verse 1]
big cuz on the road, he can’t even do his music
you ’bout to pay the price or i’ll show you how to do it
he was left with no brain, but the chop was more stupid
with the fours, but my big cousin five a big whooper
they like, “what’s that on your face?” not ray bans, it’s cartier
vlone with true religion, give it up, you n+ggas late
ten n+ggas tryna jump, alright, bet, the nine ate
pippy long with the nina boot up like ella mai
don’t give a f+ck if it’s some gum, i want whatsever in your pocket
high school, watchin’ codes, tryna break into a locker
actin’ like a warrior, nine to his back, he iguodala
i ain’t duckin’ nothin’, n+gga want smoke, let’s get it poppin’
he got rocked to sleep, get that boy a sheet, it’s game over
hollow tips’ll rip a n+gga out his tee, hulk hogan
i ain’t talkin’ set trippin’, f&n had banged on him
she asked me to come over, guess what? i came on her
[chorus]
what the f+ck that n+gga say? hm, stop cappin’
i just heard your last tape, you need to stop rappin’
chiefin’ jacket, awful lot of chili, this some good fabric
you ain’t really from the streets, you just a good rapper
mvp, b+tch, i been great since knee high
in the a, tryna make her roller skate like t.i
caught him out, if we spot him, then we got him, beatbox
i’m a wealthy mutt, four+eight+two+one+four, the eastside

[verse 2]
i don’t care ’bout a b+tch, i get head, then head ghost
he uppin’ bread, it ain’t sh+t to turn his ass to french toast
lil’ john put a burner to his dreads, b+tch, get low
we was crusin’ down they street, but this is not a six+four
your pockets empty and you cryin’ ’bout a b+tch that ain’t right
’bout my cheddar, get his ass swiss cheesed, i hate mice
pop out on him, have them n+ggas runnin’ back like ray rice
she came and gave me all jaws, i call this b+tch the great white
we be f+ckin’, but i call this b+tch my cousin, lil meech
b+tch, i’m him, tell they ass to hit the gym, n+ggas weak
i came with a four+o for any n+gga six feet
big k on his head like he was playin’ for the chiefs
hm, stop it, i see you wearin’ bape, but it’s a knockoff
for that chicken, i can make sh+t shake, i got that hot sauce
blue honey must’ve heard that i make one, i get you knocked off
them bullets sting, i make that lemon squeeze and hit your eyeball
[chorus]
what the f+ck that n+gga say? hm, stop cappin’
i just heard your last tape, you need to stop rappin’
chiefin’ jacket, awful lot of chili, this some good fabric
you ain’t really from the streets, you just a good rapper
mvp, b+tch, i been great since knee high
in the a, tryna make her roller skate like t.i
caught him out, if we spot him, then we got him, beatbox
i’m a wealthy mutt, four+eight+two+one+four, the eastside

- itsmanman lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS