Groupies lyrics

[Chorus]
These n*ggas, they more groupie’d out than these b*tches
These b*tches, still like these n*ggas I don’t get it
These digits, done took a n*gga over now I get it
If you wanna be a lame go ahead, that’s yo decision
f*ck around and wear a mask but we’ll still drop the witness
Free my n*ggas in the feds, I’m sick my baby’s got attention
Caught red-handed, sh*t I still don’t know who did it
Every gun that I done had always had extensions

[Verse 1: Baby Smoove]
It ain’t a n*gga in this earth that could f*cking say they made me
The way you n*ggas di*ksuck for sauce, man it’s crazy
I don’t hear a “Smoove” when she with me then it’s “Baby”
Have some n*ggas pull up on you who could go against the navy
Yo b*tch tryna smoke but imma let her keep her [?]
Imma drive all types of colors when i get my first Mercedes
Got the Midas with this sh*t if I order, they make it
They don’t know I used to struggle with this sh*t, I was praying
To this sh*t I got the keys, n*ggas steady switching teams
Dreaming 'bout some money everyday i want some cheese
Why the f*ck n*ggas always calling me when they in need?
This sh*t don’t happen overnight, you gotta start playing seeds
Different pops, same cup, been dropping lines all week
But I been working like a b*tch on the ground with no sleep
I could put them boys on you have you scared to go to sleep
I need 2 thousand for a verse you want the same for a beat
[Chorus]
These n*ggas, they more groupie’d out than these b*tches
These b*tches, still like these n*ggas I don’t get it
These digits, done took a n*gga over now I get it
If you wanna be a lame go ahead, that’s yo decision
f*ck around and wear a mask but we’ll still drop the witness
Free my n*ggas in the feds, I’m sick my baby’s got attention
Caught red-handed, sh*t I still don’t know who did it
Every gun that I done had always had extensions

[Verse 2: WTM Scoob]
I’m tripping, these balenciagas kinda chunky
I’m different, might have a n*gga momma tryna f*ck me
I hit the road once and got addicted, I'm a junky
I don’t deal with crackheads, I crack cars in Kentucky
Got a loyal ass driver she don’t care about the distance
Yo b*tch gon be loyal till I want her then she missing
Down to my last n*gga you don’t know the feeling
Boy i told yo ass to bend, why the f*ck you didn’t listen?
People always asking me for sh*t, yeah I gotchu
But who gon have my back when, I ain’t got no option?
I was eating noodles I saw friends eating lobster
You can ask my b*tch I been that n*gga call me Papa
Free my brother Solid, any n*gga with a problem getting Yeezys to the noggin
When smoove get the Benz AMG f*ck a copter
Cause imma get a demon on god I’m not stopping
It’s World Tour Mob and on god we be mobbing