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timb boots - nems lyrics

[intro]
oops upside of ya head
i said oops upside of ya head
boots to the side of ya dreads
timb boots to the side of ya dreads
oops upside of ya head
i said oops upside of ya head
boots to the side of ya dreads
timb boots to the side of ya dreads

[verse 1]
whooptie, you don’t like me? n-gg-, shoot me
doin’ donuts while wifey screamin’ inside the hooptie
hop yo pretty -ss out this whip, go cop a loosie
riker’s island bus the bloods tried to recruit me
walk down mermaid ave, they all salute me
you the type to go on tour and wife a groupie
f-ck kfc, my two piece absolutely
will knock yo -ss outta the screen n-gg- like “whooptie!”
wake up, little uzi
wake up (bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah, bang)
no vert, though
leavin’ em’ murked, though
hip-hop died, gorilla rose from the dirt, though
n-gg-s out here rappin’ in skirts, bro (f-ckin’ ridiculous)
i will f-ck you up
out here f-ckin’ b-tches with the mushroom cut
when you see me all you hear is, “buck, buck, buck, buck”, uh

[chorus]
oops upside of ya head
i said oops upside of ya head
boots to the side of ya dreads
timb boots to the side of ya dreads
oops upside of ya head
i said oops upside of ya head
boots to the side of ya dreads
timb boots to the side of ya dreads

[verse 2]
f-ck all the glamour and glitz, i plan to get rich
i’m from brooklyn but was never a fan of the nets
middle finger up, hand on my d-ck
you can catch me in quebec speakin’ french on the canada strip
you p-ssy, ya man is a b-tch
shoot sideways, damage my wrist
keep squeezing ’til the hammer go ‘click’
lettin off outta the van
miss you, paralyzing ya man, f-ck ya lyfe, though
you ain’t hear a rapper this nice in ya life, though
i’m lightin’ up the streets like i’m dancing with michael
side note: you rappers on the ‘gram sellin’ verses like you workin’ for geico (fifty percent off)
i’m from the jungle where we dine off creatures
tryna see a mill, can’t survive off features
on the road to riches, we holla at the b-tches
and run around like we k-9’s off leashes

[verse 3]
yo, dead-ss, b, i’m a dead-ss g
timbs and fyl brand gettin’ dead-ss flee
you out here sellin’ reggies with them dead -ss trees
runnin’ outta gas in your dead-ss v
up to brownsville on this dead-ss newport
coney island, brooklyn, i’m so dead-ss new york
four years on the run, dead-ss serious
i ain’t doin’ another sentence, dead-ss period

[outro]
wake up little uzi, wake up
wake up little uzi, wake up
wake up little uzi, wake up
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
f-ck yo lyfe

[interlude: caller, recording, nems]
your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system
f-ck ya life
is not available
at the tone, please record your message
when you’ve finished recording you may hang up
or press ‘one’ for more options
yo, f-ckin’ nems, bro
bro, it’s michael anthony, bro
yo, i need a f-ckin’ bag, bro
julio’s not pickin’ up the f-ckin’ phone
i know that’s your man
you know what i’m sayin’?
like, c’mon, bro
help me out, dude
like, i’m f-ckin’, i’m like, my guts hurt, bro
i got the shakes, bro, come on, man
i need a hot bag, bro
i need some bundles
hook me up, nems, come on, man
don’t, don’t, and don’t call me back and say, “f-ck ya life”, dude
i need a f-ckin’ b-, i need bundles, bro
my f-ckin’ guts hurt, bro, i’m sick, bro
c’mon, dude
the f-ck?
f-ck ya life

- nems lyrics

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