lil altoid - woozy lyrics
[intro]
ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah
ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
it’s ya boy lil altoid (pasta), a.k.a ybn tic+tac, uh
[chorus]
i’m the attack of the rap game, no liberio
posh b+tch chill, never crept, say, “cheerio!”
i been on to k!ll this sh+t, i’m on serial
n+ggas finna feel the sh+ts, ain’t no cereal
these boys eat the milk, they spoiled
n+ggas straight chickens, they broiled
homie had a plan, he foiled
no recoil, shots pop back+to+back, it’s all straps, now his tracksuit soiled
he got ’em screaming and screaming, no bmo
[?]
“ooh, he gon’ k!ll ’em,” he crying, no terio
we got his goods, finna cop the materials, ayy
running ’round town with a back crowd in the background, make a good kid crazy, uh
in a mad city with a pretty kitty, make a itty+bitty n+gga stay lazy, uh
[verse]
i just put twenty+four mill’ on a opp head, call him lil uzi
shoutout to biz, i ain’t f+cking with scoozies
[?] water on my wrist and jacuzzi
off the molly, rocking, making me woozy
oh sh+t, might pass out, need focus
feel like jid, say, “woah, sh+t”
n+ggas stay on ho sh+t
but i know n+ggas that can’t even see me, they wanna be me, rocking the beanie
brodie my kitty, he really my preemie
rubbing off on these n+ggas like a genie, wait (hahaha, when i say rubbing off on these n+ggas, y’all know what i meant, right?)
my only protection is rocking a bullet vest
feel like lil boat, i got b+tches in budapest
i rush the block and my shooters like klay in the third, drop a bomb on your head, they gon’ do the rest
i keep that thing to the right of the j
if it ain’t hit you yet, know that i’m toting a k
boy better pray, turn ’em to alphabet soup, better do what i say
i got a new magazine every time that you see me
your crew don’t want static like they a new tv
everybody who died to me, knocked with a beamie
you know altoid ripping when you see the [?]
stick with the fire like captain obi
stay with the stick and the mask like i’m tobi
obito, where did your homie go?
alcoholics, synonymous [?]
[chorus]
i’m the attack of the rap game, no liberio
posh b+tch chill, never crept, say, “cheerio!”
i been on to k!ll this sh+t, i’m on serial
n+ggas finna feel the sh+ts, ain’t no cereal
these boys eat the milk, they spoiled
n+ggas straight chickens, they broiled
homie had a plan, he foiled
no recoil, shots pop back+to+back, it’s all straps, now his tracksuit soiled
he got ’em screaming and screaming, no bmo
[?]
“ooh, he gon’ k!ll ’em,” he crying, no terio
we got his goods, finna cop the materials, ayy
running ’round town with a back crowd in the background, make a good kid crazy, uh
in a mad city with a pretty kitty, make a itty+bitty n+gga stay lazy, uh
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