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tsa - btb savage lyrics

[intro]
(dk, you ain’t cookin’ up)

[chorus: btb savage]
mike amiri denim jeans, polo tee slim fit
i just sent four bad b*tches through tsa with dog sh*t
she keep talkin’ while i’m tryna count, i told her ass stop talkin’
glock 23, gen5, up and pop it
i’m finna board the plane with a cup full of wocky
linked up with juney, got my pockets full of knots quick
i’m paranoid, i be ridin’ ’round with them chopsticks
she asked me why i’m cold*hearted, i told her it’s the wocky
[verse 1: btb savage]
i don’t want a ratchet ho, i like a real pretty b*tch
i dropped it in her account, she left her n*gga when the check hit
i met her out in cali, made her drive my ’bows to texas
got tired on thе road, now i’m trappin’ out the westin
i was somewhеre on a flight countin’ money when they stretched him
this bad b*tch just said i’m toxic, now i want her best friend
i be ballin’ out in cleveland with that dog, colin s*xton
finesse2tymes, boy, i’m goin’ straight in ’bout that backend
he tried to talk me lower on my price, i still taxed him
made a dub in new york callin’ plays like phil jackson
she gave me head at the table, she got bad table manners
put a turkey bag on his head, they caught him in his cannon

[verse 2: juney knotzz]
yeah, got four or five b*tches tryna swipe, they on my bumper
four or five bins, i could swipe your baby mama
i ain’t fightin’ with nan’ one of these n*ggas, i’ma just slump ’em
bullseye, that ain’t even my b*tch for me try to dump her
bullseye, caught his ass, n*gga was slippin’ behind that fake page
rippin’ that, tryna tap in trimm, n*gga got tay*k’d
wock’ it up, filled up to the brim, toast up, touché
spin his ass, hit his ass with that glock hard, bobby boucher
f*ck ’em, i’m on this mic in amiri
bucket, shrooms got me fightin’ the mirror
she like to suck d*ck, i keep that b*tch near me
i made her scam while she practiced these lyrics
[chorus: btb savage]
mike amiri denim jeans, polo tee slim fit
i just sent four bad b*tches through tsa with dog sh*t
she keep talkin’ while i’m tryna count, i told her ass stop talkin’
glock 23, gen5, up and pop it
i’m finna board the plane with a cup full of wocky
linked up with juney, got my pockets full of knots quick
i’m paranoid, i be ridin’ ’round with them chopsticks
she asked me why i’m cold*hearted, i told her it’s the wocky

- btb savage lyrics

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