F*ck, haha
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
Finna get chased and I'm walking too much got me steppin' too fast
And the blunt was just laced so you puff it and pass
Squashin' the blunt, I step on the gas
Pedal to metal, I'm going too fast, got your bitch in the passenger seat, huh
F*cking around and you playin' with me so you know that I'm bringin' the heat
But no Jimmy Butler, that bitch think I want her
That shorty was dumb, I want everyone but her
I just be smooth like some butter, huh
He think that he cold, but that boy was as hot as the summer, no homo
Add on this shit like a promo, heat to your head and you thinkin' in slow mo, you dumb
Ice on my neck, cost me 40, never said you could record me so brodie it's up
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
22 bullets inside of his head like he Clyde
Run up on me but you got the wrong guy, making you glide, making you die, you get punked
Block in my head got me stuck, fruity ass boy and you finna get punched in your stomach
Got me some bucks like I'm huntin, sippin' on wok while I'm runnin, pourin' that shit, Robitussin
Huh, huh, huh, yeah
I'm pouring that shit 'til I can't, told her to pass me the drank
I'm finna get geeked, ain't no sayin' I ain't
They call me the saint, yeah that's how it is and it ain't up for f*ckin' debate
Bitch got me shook, I don't do shit by the book, money inside of the bag like a crook
Yeah that's your bitch that I took, king of this shit in my castle so where is the rook (Pull up)
Pull up to the game in a tech, $31,000 I put on my neck
I might pull up in the set, I pull up with fire
Too much of this shit got me sick and I think I'ma vomit
I'ma just keep it 100, you or yo twin I'm deciding
Me and my bro keep it coming, me and my twin keep it locked in like Wallace and Gromit
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
F Breezy - 22 (feat. Icemaker) Lyrics
F Breezy - 22 (feat. Icemaker) Lyrics
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English
F*ck, haha
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
Finna get chased and I'm walking too much got me steppin' too fast
And the blunt was just laced so you puff it and pass
Squashin' the blunt, I step on the gas
Pedal to metal, I'm going too fast, got your bitch in the passenger seat, huh
F*cking around and you playin' with me so you know that I'm bringin' the heat
But no Jimmy Butler, that bitch think I want her
That shorty was dumb, I want everyone but her
I just be smooth like some butter, huh
He think that he cold, but that boy was as hot as the summer, no homo
Add on this shit like a promo, heat to your head and you thinkin' in slow mo, you dumb
Ice on my neck, cost me 40, never said you could record me so brodie it's up
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
22 bullets inside of his head like he Clyde
Run up on me but you got the wrong guy, making you glide, making you die, you get punked
Block in my head got me stuck, fruity ass boy and you finna get punched in your stomach
Got me some bucks like I'm huntin, sippin' on wok while I'm runnin, pourin' that shit, Robitussin
Huh, huh, huh, yeah
I'm pouring that shit 'til I can't, told her to pass me the drank
I'm finna get geeked, ain't no sayin' I ain't
They call me the saint, yeah that's how it is and it ain't up for f*ckin' debate
Bitch got me shook, I don't do shit by the book, money inside of the bag like a crook
Yeah that's your bitch that I took, king of this shit in my castle so where is the rook (Pull up)
Pull up to the game in a tech, $31,000 I put on my neck
I might pull up in the set, I pull up with fire
Too much of this shit got me sick and I think I'ma vomit
I'ma just keep it 100, you or yo twin I'm deciding
Me and my bro keep it coming, me and my twin keep it locked in like Wallace and Gromit
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
Finna get chased and I'm walking too much got me steppin' too fast
And the blunt was just laced so you puff it and pass
Squashin' the blunt, I step on the gas
Pedal to metal, I'm going too fast, got your bitch in the passenger seat, huh
F*cking around and you playin' with me so you know that I'm bringin' the heat
But no Jimmy Butler, that bitch think I want her
That shorty was dumb, I want everyone but her
I just be smooth like some butter, huh
He think that he cold, but that boy was as hot as the summer, no homo
Add on this shit like a promo, heat to your head and you thinkin' in slow mo, you dumb
Ice on my neck, cost me 40, never said you could record me so brodie it's up
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
22 bullets inside of his head like he Clyde
Run up on me but you got the wrong guy, making you glide, making you die, you get punked
Block in my head got me stuck, fruity ass boy and you finna get punched in your stomach
Got me some bucks like I'm huntin, sippin' on wok while I'm runnin, pourin' that shit, Robitussin
Huh, huh, huh, yeah
I'm pouring that shit 'til I can't, told her to pass me the drank
I'm finna get geeked, ain't no sayin' I ain't
They call me the saint, yeah that's how it is and it ain't up for f*ckin' debate
Bitch got me shook, I don't do shit by the book, money inside of the bag like a crook
Yeah that's your bitch that I took, king of this shit in my castle so where is the rook (Pull up)
Pull up to the game in a tech, $31,000 I put on my neck
I might pull up in the set, I pull up with fire
Too much of this shit got me sick and I think I'ma vomit
I'ma just keep it 100, you or yo twin I'm deciding
Me and my bro keep it coming, me and my twin keep it locked in like Wallace and Gromit
My bitch want some money, I gave her $10,000 and told her to get out of my face
If you wanna come back to the crib, man, you best wear a bib because, baby, you in for a taste
Run up on me and I'm catchin' a case, $40,000, I stuff in the bag, bitch, I'm robbin' this place
Shoot 22 like I'm Clark, you throwin' out shots in the dark and you finna get chased
Writer: Noah Fabrizio, Hayden Oslick
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid