j0an - what?! lyrics
[intro]
f+ckin it up, leavin my+leavin my+leavin my d+ck in they b+tt
nah i can’t start the song like that, f+ck, uhm+
[verse]
f+ckin’ it up, these haters suck, kickin’ up+kickin’ up dust
j0an hit me up, he know what up, we don’t need+we don’t need luck
tires are muddy, my collar bl++dy, but i still look like a stud
roll up a joint, pack me a bowl, anything, i just need bud (great idea j0an!)
hoe wanna scr+p? that’s lame
but she wanna tap? that’s tame (ay, yuh)
these hoes want my fame
they ain’t even far in the game (ay, yuh)
giving me compliments, i show my confidence
and they think i’m insane
shorty wanna top my lips, wanna buck her hips
b+tch, don’t even play
thesе d+mn hoes tryna cramp my style
dumb hoe, don’t try n fool mе
yo b+tch at my crib, but she givin’ lip
she actin moody
lean i will not sip; carts, i will rip
i only smoke weed
talkin’ to me, don’t trip, or you will get whipped
’cause i got a whole team
i’m posted with j0an, we toppin’ this throne
this crown on my head ’cause i’m your king
yo homie be dead, i shot and i fled
you might as well go and start mourning
you talkin’ this sh+t to my face like i’m scared
this crown on my head cus i’m your king
yo homie be dead, i shot and i fled
you might as well go and start mourning
you talkin’ this sh+t to my face like i’m scared
i’m laughin’ like, “thanks for the warning”
i’m sittin’ with $ega, we laughin’ to death
you know that we joke while we smoking!
f+ck it up, but i’m not that guy pal
shoot for stars, i might knock that sky down
stay in dark, they call me a d+mn night owl
jump the wall, we go r10t! ’til we time out
blast our art all night till its light out
runnin’ up, i’m gon’ knock your lights out
talkin’ loud, i’ll ask you to pipe down
with yo’ hoe, i’m gon’ put that pipe down
psychopath up in these streets, so know you’ll get yo’ wig split
counting all the dough i made this month, it’s like six digits
scared this motherf+cker to his core, watch how he fidgets
high as f+ck when i’m up in the ‘stu, the roach, i’ll finish
k!llin’ the track, no oj, pour me a glass? i’m okay (ay, yuh)
f+ckin’ yo’ b+tch, no foreplay, she praisin’ me like ¡olé! (ay, yuh)
what’s in my nose? not cocaine, what do i want? that’s more fame (ay, yuh)
you stupid b+tches got no brain, end of the song, don’t complain (ay, yuh)
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