Thing 1 Thing 2 lyrics

[Intro: 666SWISH]
Du-du-du-du-du
f*ck you, Acculbed
f*cking flexed up
We love you, Eryxse
You already know what to do
Swish, you're crazy

[Chorus: 666SWISH]
Shawty want love 'cause the bands on blue
Got two bad thots, thing one thing two
Keep the cat in the hat, and the Glock in the true
She a bad lil' hoe, but her friends bad too
I'ma hit it then I dip, get the bag like chips
Pockets obese, so the bands don't fit
Louis V on the belt, but the pants gon' slip
Ain't trippin' on a b*tch, but her ex-man did

[Verse 1: 666SWISH]
Knew he was a hoe, 'cause he stay on my di*k
Keep a chop' in the whip, right next to thе stick
Buzzin' on a b*tch, 'cause I know I'm finna hit
She gon' hit my line, Bumboi typе sh*t
Shawty hit my phone like, "Baby, what it do?"
Hope you tell me 'cause I'm tryna come through
Can't f*ck with a b*tch if she only 'bout blue
Been known she a thot and she been through the crew
[Verse 2: Eryxse]
b*tch, I pull up out the whip
I caught the side end of the .9
f*ck you talking 'bout pressing me?
Grab a pick and get to mine
If its murder we gon', shh, shh
Put 'em in decline
All they do is post pictures
And catch 'em ating all the time
Got these bands in the coupe
Thang one, thang two
Bad thot suck di*k, and she swallow nut too
Keep the .5 on deck
But he never pulling through
I'ma beat a pus*y ass, record it, post it on the news
See I'm always with the action, get to wetting, get to clapping
But my shooters automatic
So they shoot sh*t like the magic
f*ck a main these b*tches average
All my women super valid
Your lil' boyfriend don't want static
Burn his crib like sistematic
We gon' pull up Rick Ross
All my pockets obese
And that boy want a feat'
He gon' needa get a lease
If he say that he kill me
He could sure shoot the piece at least
He could sure shoot the piece at
[Chorus: 666SWISH]
Shawty want love 'cause the bands on blue
Got two bad thots, thing one thing two
Keep the cat in the hat, and the Glock in the true
She a bad lil' hoe, but her friends bad too
I'ma hit it then I dip, get the bag like chips
Pockets obese, so the bands don't fit
Louis V on the belt, but the pants gon' slip
Ain't trippin' on a b*tch, but her ex-man did