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supamemeboi - zeze ver. 3 lyrics

[intro: swae lee]
yeah
d.a. got that dope!
go

[verse 1: swae lee]
you already know (you already)
my protocol (oh)
i wouldn’t say they greedy, but they come back for more (more)
superstar status, baby, hold the applause (yeah, superstar status)
my life a movie, baby, you’re in this episode (ohh)
yo, dressed down in this b-tch, woah
takin’ bad b-tches home wit’ me (ooh)
give a d-mn about receipts, oh (ooh)
spend it all, watch it blow away
take a dose, don’t misuse it
pop fifteen, make her dreams come true (ayy)
all my cash come blue
shine on these niggas like we always do (ooh)

[verse 2: tyga]
(hah)
i done seen rap niggas (yeah)
come and dap niggas (yeah)
turn they back on ya, now they wanna rap with ya (d-mn)
ten years in the race, i done overlapped niggas (pew)
platinum in my ring, i done sold plaques, nigga (d-mn)
takin’ shots at a beast had to come attack niggas (hah)
treat you like my son, i don’t need a babysitter (nope)
i reinvent the rhythm, niggas wanna reconsider (bah)
fallin’ in the bank, i’ll be gone ’til november (fume)
take a famous b-tch, then i turn her to a sinner (freak)
bad b-tches only, tell them niggas, “do not enter” (nope)
i pack pack, puttin’ the b-tches in a sprinter (yeah)
i switch flow, switch whip into aventa’ (fume)
i eat this beat like a tv dinner (uhm)
on your tv, don’t fall asleep on a nigga (yeah)
i’m swimming in this money, r.i.p. mac miller (d-mn)
and i’m loyal to my soul, i’m a hometown hero

[chorus: travis scott]
ice water, turned atlantic (freeze)
nightcrawlin’ in the phantom (skrrt, skrrt)
told them hoes that don’t you panic
took an island, (yeah) flood the mansion (big water)
dropped the roof, more expansion
drive a coupe you can stand in (it’s lit)
see the b-tches undercover (in the sheets)
i’m an -ss and titty lover (big -ss)
guess we all made for each other
now that all the dawgs free (yeah, yeah)
and we out in these streets (alright)
can you do it, can you pop it for me?

[refrain: kodak black]
pull up in a demon, on god (on god)
lookin’ like i still do fraud (fraud)
flyin’ private jet with the rod (rod)
this that z shit, this that z shit (this that z shit)
pull up in a demon, on god (on god)
lookin’ like i still do fraud (fraud)
flyin’ private jet with the rod (rod)
this that z shit, this that z shit (this that z shit)

[verse 3: offset]
offset!
blow the brains out the coupe (boom)
police wanna talk, but i’m on mute (woo-woo, hey)
i’ma bust her wrist down ’cause she cute (ice, ice)
fuck her on a yacht, dive in a pool (yeah)
she an addict (addict), addict for the lifestyle and the patek (patek)
big daddy, have you ever felt chanel fabrics? (chanel)
i be drippin’ to death, i need a casket (drippin’)
and we got more stripes than the ref, he foul, tec him (bow, stripes)
in the middle of the field like david beckham (field, bow-bow)
all my niggas locked up, for real, i’m tryna help ’em (free, free)
when i got a mil’, got me the chills, don’t know what happened (hoo, chills)
pop pills, do what you feel, i’m on that zombie (hey, hoo)
i’m more like gaddafi, i’m not no gandhi (gaddafi, hey)
i’m more like i’m david, goliath runnin’ (hey, hey)
niggas be clonin’, i find it funny (clone, haha)
we from the nawf, straight out of the dungeon (we from the nawf, hey)
i go in her mouth, she can’t tell me nothin’ (eghck, eghck, egchk)
300, the watch is out of your budget (woo, woo, 300)
mean-muggin’ got me clutchin’
yeah, and this stick right out of russia

[chorus: travis scott]
ice water, turned atlantic (freeze)
nightcrawlin’ in the phantom (skrrt, skrrt)
told them hoes that don’t you panic
took an island, (yeah) flood the mansion (big water)
dropped the roof, more expansion
drive a coupe you can stand in (it’s lit)
b-tches undercover (in the sheets)
i’m an -ss and titty lover (big -ss)
guess we all made for each other
now that all the dawgs free (yeah, yeah)
and we out in these streets (alright)
can you do it, can you pop it for me?

[verse 4: dax]
it’s dax!
you see the cool is that i never was a follower
this game consumes niggas like a gold digging swallower
you really think she love you but you couldn’t even borrow her
you hot for a minute then she fuck your nigga oliver
the twist ya he tryna be a rapper too
so he done went copy all the things he seen them rappers do
bought a chain, bought a belt and car without a roof
and started slurring all his words when he rapping in the booth
it’s a trick nigga
ajdbjs jshdhdj
that don’t mean shit nigga
that’s a fake infatuation by a b-tch nigga
not to be mistaken when you dealing with a real nigga
write this down it’s a prophecy
ain’t no way that they’re stoppin’ me
they’ll be calling me corny but in a year they gonna copy me
shit is a clearly a robbery
they’ll infringe on my property
they know it’s gift that it’s like winnin’ a lottery
imagination was my maturation
contemplated if i’d ever make it in and out the basement
started making every single thing i did
is product was placement
never pacing, waiting on tomorrow
i was never patient
now i’m taking every single thing
the chicken and the bacon back to conscious
‘case i know you hooked and i’m now on ya playlist
had to fake it
now i’m mainstream and they gonna have to play it
why?
’cause i’m the greatest fucking in the making

[verse 5: denzel curry]
first off, every rapper in the game garbage
no flodgin’, b-tch i’m the green goblin
b-tch i’m always working hard, but i ain’t amish
all you silly little niggas need to pay homage
to a nigga like me, ’cause you ain’t like me
and most likely, i’ma take your b-tch
in some brand new nikes, used to rock the y-3
if you sponsored by me, then you are the shit
big time player, big city roller
came a long way from using motorola
pickled eggs, don’t forget the juice, that cost a quarter
tryna dodge the crackers when they try to reach their quota
yeah, you already know what it is b-tch
i light up an incense, ’cause nigga, i’m too lit
don’t give me your two cents, here’s a penny for your thoughts
put a penny in a pig, never pennies for a thot
know what it is, know what it ain’t, i’ma go back to the bank
fuck a new car, in a new paint, i’ma pull up in a tank
like drank never on me, and the dank never on me
if a nigga catch a fade
then we paint with the homies like a mural
fuck a federal bureau
it’s plural, hella hoes and apparel
that’s american, none of these hoes i’m marryin’
they only give a fuck ’bout what a nigga carryin’
hmm, ha, i’m the new guy
nigga better not try me, he might die
if a, nigga, pull up, i
just might, have to, pull out, fire
no nino but i make g money
four kilo so i get ki’ money
hit c-note so i see money
i go dumb but i ain’t no dummy

[verse 6: joyner lucas]
this ain’t what you wanted, they been waiting for it
i’m joyner lucas, what the fuck you niggas take me for
(what the fuck)
i pull up in a demon but i k!ll satan for it
if you want attention tory you gon’ have to pay me for it
all these hoes love me but you sucker niggas hate me for it
you roll up on me, catch a shot at ya mercedes door
the bullets fly, you recline like a la-z-boy
all you do is cry, you a child, you my baby boy
you call yourself tory after the notorious big (yeah)
biggie turning in his grave when he hear yo’ shit
don’t ever think that you could ever come compare yo’ shit
little girls and kids only ones who feel yo’ shit
i skipped the plaques on my way to a grammy
all your records soft and sweet, niggas think that you candy
your niggas really convinced you that you think you can scare me
and you got identity issues, niggas think you a tranny, really? (d-mn)
tory tell us why you always gotta lie in your rhymes (why)
i know keeping up with lies can get tiring sometimes
you not a g and deep down you wanna hide sometimes
staring at the sunshine and start crying sometimes
your real name is daystar, you been dying to shine
and when you sing you kinda sound like you dying sometimes
you make the type of tracks that had me feelin’ silent inside
nobody take you serious, put all the violence aside
okay, let’s talk about your plagiarism that you hate to mention (yeah)
or talk about the hate you giving to the greats you dissing
(let’s talk about it)
and that writer who wrote yo’ shit still ain’t get paid on that “don’t die” record
you should probably go pay the nigga (yeah, man)
and how the fuck you talk about kendrick when he a legend (huh)
then go bite the nigga style on your record right at the ending
on “4am flex” 2 minutes and 50 seconds
sound exactly like “the art of peer pressure”, go take a listen

[outro]
uh-huh, ha, oh-ah-oh
uh-huh, ha, oh-ah-oh
uh-huh, ha, oh-ah-oh
uh-huh, ha, oh-ah-oh

- supamemeboi lyrics

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