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wrist work - weebo lyrics

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[intro]
i say, early in the mornin’, in my pijams!
standin’ over that stove, i’m cookin’ yams
bussin’ down the whole thing, i’m flippin’ grams
doin’ what i gotta do, to feed the fam

[verse 1: weebo]
ya they call me weebo
bet my whole hood know about me
i grew up ’round drug dilla’s
and blood nigga’s that caught bodies
countin’ money that’s all we know
blow it all in a day or two
we a ride together, we a die together
we stick together like crazy glue
i’m a boss nigga makin’ major moves
you’s a b-tch nigga, makin’ hater moves
smile in my face, talk behind my back
even the mannequin ain’t fake as you
you scandalous, plus average
i’m plushed out on some lavish shit
get so much fuckin’ money!
these broke nigga’s couldn’t handle it
i was 20 years old
and had a condo on the strip
had a rolex on my wrist
and bought a rolex for my b-tch (true story)
glock 19, 30 round extended clip
forgiatos on the rims
riddin’ round with philthy rich! (true story)
fuck do you mean?!, i’m gettin’ this cream
to count it up i need a money machine
money machine, d-diamonds all on my neck
yo b-tch sent me a text nigga
all she want is sex
fuck her and p-ss her to the next nigga
next nigga
i got real k!llas ’round me that’ll gun ya down
what you niggas know about 100 rounds?!
that choppa rock hold 100 rounds
when it get to dumpin’
it gon’ sound like the thunder sound!
better get to runnin’ and to duckin’ now
err’ybody screamin’ cops commin’ now!
oh no! oh no! no no not weeb
naw i don’t fuck around with the fuck around
no! philthy!

[verse 2: philthy rich]
i used to be broke like in 06
but ain’t been broke like ever since
it’s black card paints through the fuckin’ house
my ex b-tch was trash so i threw her out
i don’t need no f-ggots in my stable
i remember days i ain’t used to have cable
this rolley a 2015
and fo yo rolley nigga you only spent 15
that’s what i spent on my b-tch watch (like 3 times)
i told her rolleys float b-tch, they don’t tick tock
i told her switch her spot if it get hot
and never answer the do’ if they hit the spot
nigga’s instagramin’ cars that ain’t theirs
but that ain’t my place to tell you that ain’t his
my b-tch crashed the jag and she say she sorry
when this check come next week i’m gon get the rari
it’s philthy

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