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voicemail - buckos lyrics

[intro: jt]
uhh, h*llo? buckos? it’s me, jt. um, i wrote my verse, just like you want me to. uhhhh, where ya’ll at?

[verse 1: yung shrk]
uh, rick ross mixed with big hova
god bless the man i put these sights over
aiming with a wiimote, i’m a wii bowler
cuddle homies in the winter cuz’ it be colder
uh, i feel like pablo party in la
uh, feel like lebron i’m not gonna stay
uh, feel like dwyane wade euro to the layup
uh, in my room sippin’ coffee from my k*cup

[hook: yung shrk & *bread b.o.l.l.a*]
pull up, buckos up, in the front (*what?!*)
getting top, pop my glock, in the trunk (*pop pop!*)
take a ferry it’s not scary don’t be wary (*ooh!*)
drink your dairy pop a cherry bustin berry (*berry!*)
bustin berry, bustin berry (*bust em!*)
drink your dairy pop a cherry bustin berry (*bust em!*)
need another one like i’m l*stin larry (*l*stin!*)
drink your dairy pop a cherry bustin berry (*bust em!*)

[verse 2: bread b.o.l.l.a]
got bad taste, my outfit stupid
get so many b*tches, they call me cupid
she’s getting moist, but it ain’t humid
all the cuddis, all get zooted
it’s so stanky, probably just pooted
i wanted a sandwich, so i ate a ruben
i’m a track star, catch me zoomin
bars so crazy, cuz’ i’m not human
nickyd, let me get a feature
lurkin’, in the swamp i’m a creature
hand out the d, like i’m a teacher
she’s on her knees, like i’m a preacher
*you’re a rich boy, you don’t know what hard work is. all you do is sit on your phone at work, godd*mnit!*

[verse 3: titty boi]
i’m with my boy bread in the kitchen cookin’ up
no this ain’t lean, this is rootbeer in my cup
i have to pee cuz’ i drank too much
only get c’s cuz’ a’s way too high up
chillin’, coolin’, with capri*sun said i’m
chillin, coolin’, with capri*sun
had to fart in class weird feeling on my bum
oops i, sh*tted, well that’s no fun
yo i’m in the booth with my f*cking boyfriends
yung shrk, jazzy bread, titty boi and quazywave
if you talking sh*t please say it to my f*cking face
b*tch keep up can’t match my f*cking face
over eighteen, f*ck it catch a case
wario just farted in it, f*ck it stinks
and so do i, at f*cking smash bros, stop beating me wyatt i swear to god, please dude i’m getting really frustrated! *mic falls*

[verse 4: quazero]
yuh, say i don’t know how to act
i’ve been so gone off my mental that there ain’t no comin’ back
wish i could buy a two door but with two more in the back
then i ride with all my homies and we go and get the bags, yeah
charles barkley beat, we be runnin’ in the streets, yuh
stacking so much paper i ain’t worried how to eat
i’m just worried what to eat
like my pizza with three meats, like my biz with three exes
i ain’t worried bout my exes, i ain’t worried bout what’s next
i said lemme get a check, yeah
squad so deep i gotta flee, i be ballin’ with no cleats
bars on me i had to preach, like my smoothies with no peach

[outro: all]
euuughh! fire!
*of the jazz, of the funk*

- buckos lyrics

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