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the point - jay gudda lyrics

[intro]

[break 1: jay gudda]
right off the rippy i need some tippy top
just give me three mississippi, i’ll get the city hot
the bigger the sucker, the bigger sh*t he pop
and i’m still at your b*tch’s crib for a pity stop
your man crush bragging about how lit he got
and that’s not a selfie, b*tch that’s a titty shot
miss piggy, i’m loving the way you diddy bop
you get the point

[verse 1: jay gudda]
margaritas at margaritas, the tacos coming
don’t even l!ck on my d*ck if you ain’t gone swallow nuttin’
you make me sick, the sh*t you do for a follow b*tton
that’s a hollow stomach… i don’t know how you stomach
i still pay for decisions made in 2009
the system hopes i decline, susan says i’ll be fine
i’d rather waste energy than my time
p*ssy, you still pretend to be on your grind

[break 2: jay gudda]
smoke like a hippy, sipping my sippy cup
b*tch i just need a quickie, get me my pick*me*up
d*ck in my belt, keeping my stiffy tucked
i still get a rush off the work, i’m never busy enough
i’ll know that it’s love whenever it isn’t l*st
i’ve watched how you’ve played your cards when i didn’t bluff
i listened up, the goose, i ain’t no sitting duck
you get the point
[verse 2: jay gudda]
bozo want seconds on who i boink
my diss records don’t disappoint
five nine, dreaming about a royce
i ain’t even seen this sh*t as a choice
all your friends are just people that you exploit
your whole squad’s looking r*t*rded when you rejoice
b*tch, i keep offensiveness in my voice
you offended or annoyed… p*ssy that i avoid

[break 3: jay gudda]
if i’m feelin’ iffy, i’m dippin’ jiffy fast
b*tch got a whole lot of secrets inside that vicky bag
no blood, no foul, you getting ticky tack
can’t even bark at you kitty cats, you wicky wack
my d*ck in your mouth, who you getting lippy at
anyway, hit me back, just to chat
truly yours, don’t even ask where i’m really at
steve nash, you get the point

[verse 3: jay gudda]
too many birds in the coupe, i had to get em’ gone
b*tch i might’ve played nice, but i was never fond
if she ever played jay, that was a clever jawn
but i find satisfaction proving oppressors wrong
i’m most comfortable when the pressure’s on
anxious to be at home, get my depression on
they ask why me and these rappers ain’t on a f*ckin’ song
or if we don’t get along… the answer, you get the point

- jay gudda lyrics

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