copy - jssr lyrics
[intro: jssr]
(okay, yeah, haha, uh)
[chorus: jssr]
i cannot f*ck with these people, they copying
like, why you just wanna be me?
i just, like, get to the racks and i pop it in
like, b*tch, you can’t do it like me
[?], but that boy can’t do it, can’t do it like me
how i, walk with the bl!ck and i got all my money, i got me a godd*mn spree, like
talk on my [?]
(i took that once with the [?])
i*i took that b*tch to the tropic
changin’ ’em up and i’m feeling like tie*dye, huh
[?] made me a topic, huh
no, i can’t f*ck with that sh*t, no go
i turn that glock into bo, i’m countin’ my money, i count me a big bankroll
[verse 1: jssr]
f*ck with that money, f*ck with the stats and i swear that i’m in love with the funds
i count a hunnid
i count a hunnid, i swear i’m in love with the hunds’
i told that b*tch that i don’t give a f*ck, told b*tch, “i don’t have no lovе”
i told that ho that i keep me a buck, i keep a godd*mn gun
yeah, yeah, yеah, yeah
talk ’bout, huh, huh, huh, huh
i don’t give no f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck
just rock with guns, guns, guns, guns
[verse 2: dvertigo]
(yeah*yeah*yeah)
i see prada spread out on my tag
i see fifty racks up in that bag, ho
i got cash flow, i got some broads on go
i’m f*ckin’ this ho down slowly, i got some sh*t in my soda
high every day, never sober
i told that b*tch, “bend over”
walk in that b*tch so clean, y’all opps be late, so phony
come get yo’ b*tch off me, i’m the one with all the funds, huh
i’m the b*tch havin’ fun, huh
put that in the saint laurent, huh
i’m in this b*tch geeked up, huh
walk in that b*tch, we stunt, huh
big ass pointers, they punch, huh
pistol get grabbed for fun, huh
i’m never seein’ the sun, huh
i’m always gettin’ geeked up, huh
we never seein’ the sun, yeah
we always gettin’ geeked up, yeah
i’m never trippin’ on nothin’, huh
i’m only worried ’bout us, yeah
[verse 3: slump6s]
b*tch, i’m only worried ’bout us
[?] in the face, i bust
n*gga run up on me lookin’ all crazy, he walk out this b*tch with a crutch
i’m on the gas, what’s up?
b*tch n*gga, don’t gas ’em up
b*tch, i don’t roll it, ain’t pass it up
lil’ bro can’t breathe, got asthma
ayy, walk, uh, walk, uh, walk down, n*gga, touch me
new drank, shoutout lucki
workin’ on new sh*t, boy, don’t rush me, ayy
big ricks got me comfy
workin’ on big sh*t out the country
i got a [?], make his wig split, made his d*ck [?]
look at the bank call, that’s yo’ b*tch, sh*t, they said i been making too much money
n*gga talk down on some dumb sh*t, then i’m finna f*ck up on his sister
if he f*ck ’round, we gon’ dump sh*t in this mac*11 like a whisper
leave him dumbfound with my white boys, i might f*ck around and shoot a n*gga
[chorus: jssr]
i cannot f*ck with these people, they copying
like, why you just wanna be me?
i just, like, get to the racks and i pop it in
like, b*tch, you can’t do it like me
[?], but that boy can’t do it, can’t do it like me
how i, walk with the bl!ck and i got all my money, i got me a godd*mn spree, like
talk on my [?]
(i took that once with the [?])
i*i took that b*tch to the tropic
changin’ ’em up and i’m feeling like tie*dye, huh
[?] made me a topic, huh
no, i can’t f*ck with that sh*t, no go
i turn that glock into bo, i’m countin’ my money, i count me a big bankroll
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