MOM lyrics

by

Dominic Fike


[Intro]
Produced by [?]
Yeah, yeah, yuh, yuh, yuh

[Verse]
Okay these pus*y n*ggas looking wall to wall
I don't double take
I'm really in the field as soon as the f*cking hurtle brakes
Skippin' to the league
You ain't really f*ckin' come to play
I wonder why they try sonnin' me
Ayy, talkin' like a sun of god
I'm drunk as f*ck in the synagogue
Listenin' to God like watch it, 'cause I'mma kill 'em all
Sinner man, sin 'em all
Winter jams, killin' y'all
f*ck it, been about ruckus
Been about buzzin'
Chillin' out loveless and no n*ggas out from it
South Florida sh*t how can I get up
Been up in my sit-ups
Sit up when you talkin' to a Backhouse n*gga
This the Backhouse n*gga, you was callin' for your hoes, they get dragged out with ya
Maxed out, feelin' it
I get jacked up
Tellin' my ho, new track, n*gga
Dependin' on how we get matched up
Ritalin, I keep track of that back talk
I'm bat sh*t, I'm that [?]-
b*tch, I was
In that Monty taking trips to making b*tches mad
In that Honda, making p[?] nickel back
I make a group with that
Who you callin' simp
I pick the numbers up and sip 'em
I double up my sh*t with that
What's all that sh*t you was talkin' 'bout
What's all that sh*t I [?] 'em runnin' out
And they can't rack that up n*gga
I remember you from school, should've added that up
What's all that sh*t you was talkin' 'bout
What's all that sh*t, I send 'em runnin' out
And they can't rack that up n*gga
I remember you from school, should've-
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net