Lud Foe - Poof paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson Poof - Lud Foe



Aye, out west 290 shit, bitch, you know how I'm rockin', nigga
Get your guns up, get your funds up,
You on that opp shit, get mopsticked, bitch
YSN, young street nigga, aye
This bitch say she like my watch, bitch say she like my car
Ridin' solo dolo but I'm hangin' out with my Glock
Police got behind me, did I pull over? Hell naw
I might bust my dashboard, get up with me, fuck y'all
I pull up on you at the light, then I leave you at the light
Slidin' off, your shit crash, in the sidewalk, all in the grass
I'm in the club, high off drugs, bitch nigga better not mean mug
Security ain't even search me, I just snuck past him with the snuff
Told that bitch I like her sundress and I take it off
I aim at your head, chopper make a mess, take it off
Sniper on the roof, roof, with this bitch, I'm a dog
There was fleas on your ass, nigga, you wan' bite 'em off
I got shorties on my payroll, get your halo, they knock you off
My bitch, I feel like John Gotti, I might catch me a new body
If you ain't 'bout gettin' money,
Nigga, then you need to find you a new hobby
Whole lotta money, whole lotta gold,
Like I sold my soul to the Illuminati
Pussy nigga this a Ferrari, this ain't no Maserati
My bitch got one hell of a body, she foreign like Bugatti
Alexander McQueen 'cause, bitch, I'm a designer fiend
I buy Balmains, expensive jeans and I fill 'em with Gs
Aye, my car go poof, it ain't got no roof
Niggas say you're gettin' money but yeen no proof
Pussy nigga fuck with me then your life go poof
I'm a player, don't be surprised if your bitch go poof
And if you're icy to me, your neck and wrist go poof
The police tryna build a case but they ain't got no proof
I'll fuck his bitch 'til she drown and she ain't got no juice
Thinkin' 'bout gettin' on my level that's a hell of a stoop
Aye, your racks go poof, then your sack go poof
Tryna run from me, chopper make your back go poof
The police chasin' me, I make this beat, 12 on poof
We put niggas on a stretcher now they callin' for truce
I'm mixin' Hennessy with pills, bitch, I'm high off the deuce
Them niggas lyin' in they rhymes, they ain't tellin' the truth
I got a ugly bag, boy, I bought your bitch bag
I got a ugly swag, my designer a mismatch
We just pull up on a nigga block
With 100 shots, then the 100 train comin'
I fuck a bitch, never call her back,
Tell her that I love her, I was game runnin'
She ate my dick up, bon apetit, bitch got a tongue like Cardi B
Infrared beams on everything, might be red, might be green
Bowleg bitch might be thick, might be slim, might be lean
I don't sip lean, but I pop beans,
Feelin' like I'm high off everything
Foe'nem leave no witnesses, we be shootin' up everything
Fuck a bitch 'cause I'm married to
The game, only way I buy a wedding ring
Run up on a nigga house, put the 4 nickel in a nigga mouth
Told him, "Give me all that shit",
Took so much dope, I ain't runnin' out
You want the shoes on my feet, well, they ain't even comin' out
Rappin' shit you ain't bout,
These rap niggas love doin' shit for the clout
Niggas loose at the mouth
My car go poof, it ain't got no roof
Niggas say you're gettin' money but yeen no proof
Pussy nigga fuck with me then your life go poof
I'm a player, don't be surprised if your bitch go poof
And if you're icy to me, your neck and wrist go poof
The police tryna build a case but they ain't got no proof
I'll fuck his bitch 'til she drown and she ain't got no juice
Thinkin' 'bout gettin' on my level that's a hell of a stoop
Aye, aye, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, bitch
Out west 290 shit, you know how I'm rockin', nigga
Get your guns up, get your funds up
You on that opp shit, get mop sticked
Spvnk on the beat
Drum Dealers



Writer(s): Willie James Akins Jr.


Lud Foe - No Hooks II
Album No Hooks II
date de sortie
27-10-2017




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