a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

r&b singer - otm lyrics

[intro: blue pesos]
stop playin’ (reconboy)
these n*ggas know what the f*ck goin’ on
it’s regular
(angel heaven sent)

[chorus: blue pesos]
i just turned a rapper to an r&b singer
i got shanay in the clip lookin’ for markesha
i’ll get him done grimy for a pair of sneakers
ain’t no passes, you ain’t runnin’ from this ass whoopin’
a n*gga whoop my ass, we gon’ double back with mask on
extended clips, nine millimeters, your debt past due
i’ll go nuts in this b*tch and crack his cashew
what’s this b*tton on the glock? what do that do?

[verse 1: blue pesos]
turn it to a fully, we got mop sticks for bullies
foreign cars, bad b*tches, vvs diamond jewelry
lose the attitude, sorry, bae, but you blew it
stupid, i just brought the ryu, tеkken, hadouken
face front down likе he belly flopped
handin’ drums to the youth, oh, you shouldn’t have
she in that foreign suckin’ d*ck, sorry, sir, she can’t answer
i’m slidin’ up on all my goons with me to the playground
goyard backpack, no, this ain’t a spray ground
turn nothin’ into somethin’, used to thug in public housing
two hundred bands to see her ‘lone, i think it’s time for an accountant
want juice, i’ve been sh*ttin’, in a week, that’s ten thousand
b*tches over money, n*ggas movin’ ass backwards
i just upped a thirty ball, n*ggas lookin’ mad sour
a cold day in h*ll when i bring the boomhauer
why you postin’ throwbacks, n*gga? get some new money, ugh
[chorus: blue pesos]
i just turned a rapper to an r&b singer
i got shanay in the clip lookin’ for markesha
i’ll get him done grimy for a pair of sneakers
ain’t no passes, you ain’t runnin’ from this ass whoopin’
a n*gga whoop my ass, we gon’ double back with mask on
extended clips, nine millimeters, your debt past due
i’ll go nuts in this b*tch and crack his cashew (huh, n*gga)
what’s this b*tton on the glock? what do that do?

[verse 2: duffy]
the n*gga with the bag on him, yeah, i’m that dude
get your head in the game, son, you know cash rules
hit his b*tch two years ago, you mad, fool?
the opps weird? oh, ayy, we finna pass through
bet it burn, i just turned him into usher
be them lil’ n*ggas that turn nothin’ into something
sh*t, thuggin’ by our lonely, n*ggas phonies
stick on me, i just did a n*gga bad, holey moly
holyfield just tried to box with me, now he in the ground
hollow rounds made a n*gga dance like he chris brown
they say we think we bigger than the program
independent, i get chicken like i signed with motown
sh*t, ballin’ on these n*ggas, ain’t it obvious?
my d*ck up in her mouth, bro, please, stop callin’ her
we ballin’ on these n*ggas, ain’t it obvious?
move in silence, n*ggas fakin’ for the audience, sh*t
[chorus: blue pesos]
i just turned a rapper to an r&b singer
i got shanay in the clip lookin’ for markesha
i’ll get him done grimy for a pair of sneakers
ain’t no passes, you ain’t runnin’ from this ass whoopin’
a n*gga whoop my ass, we gon’ double back with mask on
extended clips, nine millimeters, your debt past due
i’ll go nuts in this b*tch and crack his cashew
what’s this b*tton on the glock? what do that do?

- otm lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular