Lyrics Have a Nice Thursday! - Kwito , GOOBERS

Black rover truck
Yeah I'm lookin' for some stack
And shorty wanna fuck
Well I'm looking for the bag
Get the fuck up out my face
Got the rouger on my lap
And I'm aimin' let hit
Shorty fuck about yo man
I blast
Totin a pistol shootin' to it last
Ak on my waist when I pull up hella fast
N alan he a bitch when I see him ima stab
Bitch get back
Get whacked
Bitch I'm stacked
Never been rich but don't care about a tag
N Brodie he a bitch when I see him Ima pack
Get the money then I dip
Only care about the bands
Shorty stayin' on my dic
Buh I swear she got a man

Fucked up fucked up
Call you smith and wesson
Cause you are not the best in this
Challenge, Palace
Seem so callous
I'm telling you the truth, fool
I'm feelin' brutal
Foolish lookin' move, oh
Publix fruit bowl
Callin this murder
Nothin unheard, er
I'm going further
No record, er
Hear the cheering crowd
It's humiliation
New verse, now
Call this mutilation

Boy went crazy on that like
I ain't even gonna lie bruh
That shit was tough but
I think it's my turn real quick, so hold up

Alan he a bitch
Ima shoot em wit the stick
Man I got a 40 drum
But you got a little clip
Ima take you on the ground
Man I gotta take a flick
Ima pull up with the gang
Finna pull up with the clique

Talkin all that shit and ima have you do the race
And I just pull up with my money ima have you do the chase
And I just came up on the beat I put a blicky to ya face
And why you beggin' me for songs ima do it at my pace
And ima show you that I do it why you rappin' over beats
And I just came up with the gang and I'm finna have you take a seat
And why you beggin' me for mercy why you begin' me for feats
Heard you on a podcast said you like the feet

Fuck do you mean
You not fucking with reap
All these pussy mfers
Yea they tryna be me
Think they got my flow
Think they got my voice
Yea they swear we the same
But you never made no noise
Yea I came wit a k in the name of the game
Got these pussy mfers thinking they can get paid
Imma spray till you pray to a god
You're insane
You ain't gang
Tryna swerve in my lane

22 tips
Got .22 bullets
I don't give a single fuck how these mfers do it
Cause they swear they tuff
Till they popped in the head
Got blood spilling out
Pussy boy ur dead
So you
Better find an exit
Or this might be your worst day
Watch how I crept
In the god damn doorway
So watch you say or
You better watch your mouth
Yea
Well either you're dead
So welcome to the reapers house

Ain't nobody coming close
When Goobers bangin' it with the ghosts
Aye
Fully loaded smith & wesson
So just keep on talkin' bitch and it's red that you be dressed in
Pussy locked up in my sights so he better go learn that lesson
Or ima let a couple fly at his head with no discretion
Said aye, aye, bitch
Really think you all that shit?
I don't wanna use no clip
But you gon make it pop real quick
Fuck
Whippin shit up getting loud on a Thursday
Ops in the back hit 180 on the getaway
Everything a blur got me feeling like I'm Usain
Pedal to the ground pray that ima see another day
Shut the fuck up or ima give your ass a new face
Way too fuckin clean I ain't ever gonna need a case
New kids up in town but you better keep with this pace
We ain't slowin' down like a ghost gone with no trace