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popular - amy miyú lyrics

[intro]
tell a popped b*tch*
hold on, not yet hoe…
sh*t, let’s go

i tell a popped b*tch, b*tch i’m popular
i’ll put a price on your head just to knock you off
keep that energy in person when you poppin’ off
parallel panameras in the parking lot
i had to double park a n*gga brodie talk too much
outta pocket ass b*tches always salty much
ain’t no need to really shade ’em they don’t shine at all
i got some thick b*tches with me buying out the mall

car service with my b*tches we don’t walk enough
i could tiger stripe a hoe like i stretched a mark
got a melon sized wallеt like beyoncé’s bra
tan lines on thеse melons get my jiggle on
b*tch ain’t popping got her leaking like her silicone
they heard a b*tch vegan but i still shank a broad
pull up with the sticks like a f*cking shishkebab
catch me running over hoes like the sisqo song
ain’t a d*mn thing silver but this silver thong
pillow talking sideline b*tches steady gumming off
sipping kahlua’s in bermuda being bomfortable
bum b*tches got some nerve beimg comfortable
i tell a popped b*tch, b*tch i’m popular
i’ll put a price on your head just to knock you off
keep that energy in person when you poppin’ off
parallel panameras in the parking lot
i had to double park a n*gga brodie talk too much
outta pocket ass b*tches always salty much
ain’t no need to really shade ’em they don’t shine at all
i got some thick b*tches with me buying out the mall

swear swear petty ain’t a pitty
had to run that b*tch up out the city
heard you in berlin barely working
bally bags burberry purchase
blue flame burning like a furnace
f*ck around turning by the turnips
courtesy of caskets with the courtins
half a dolla b*tches worth a curtis
fn or mac and tech combined
ain’t no f*cking mourning keep it quiet
tunnel vision running to the light
light you with this 30 on the side
fye, fye, fye, fye, fye, boy you a god d*mn lie
women lie men lie numbers don’t but the both of them really tried
can’t hear a beep, can’t hear a mope
infrared beep with the cl!ck on remote
haute like couture haute like a ho
zero zero sum sum bankroll
going out bad like pluton nash
pocket stuffed i need a sudafed
you talk too much you friendly with the feds
ain’t no pillowtalking in my bed
headrest fluff it up with cash
matress pump it up with bags
bag bag bag bag bags, birkin b*tch i’m in my f*cking bag
i tell a popped b*tch, b*tch i’m popular
i’ll put a price on your head just to knock you off
keep that energy in person when you poppin’ off
parallel panameras in the parking lot
i had to double park a n*gga brodie talk too much
outta pocket ass b*tches always salty much
ain’t no need to really shade ’em they don’t shine at all
i got some thick b*tches with me buying out the mall

- amy miyu lyrics

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