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 #

letra de chicken box - baby jungle

[intro]
(i got hitman on the beat)
frrt, frrt, uh, baby jungle
yeah, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
yeah, uh, yeah, let’s do it

[chorus]
i done ran it up, never too bougie to eat a chicken box (yeah, yeah, yeah)
young and turnt, soon as it’s hot outside, i’ll go and drop the top
some bad sh-t, she got on booty shorts and a crop-top (some bad sh-t)
i don’t need security when i’m ridin’ with this chop-chop (boom, boom)
yeah, uh, i get in my zone, watch me get it on (get in that zone, n-gga)
yeah, uh, eater from atlanta, got that georgia dome (uh, uh, she an eater, uh)
yeah, uh, before you play, just think about you in a funeral homе (how you look)
i could never hate, that’s somе broke-n-gga syndrome (yeah, i could never, uh)

[verse 1]
frrt, frrt, frrt, frrt, f-ck ’round and try out the switch (what the f-ck?)
f-ck ’round and clap your b-tch (b-tch clapped)
i’m so lit right now, i might just go and stream myself on twitch (uh-huh)
when they watchin’ and you poppin’, n-ggas better keep that draft, we spin (frrt, frrt, frrt)
when i grab that stick, get out my way, i’m like, “who is you?” better move (b-tch, i’m him)
b-tch, i’m cocoa b-tter when it come down to gettin’ your ho, you know i’m smooth
way before i copped amiri, in middle school, was rockin’ trues
wasn’t f-ckin’ with me ‘fore i got turnt, now everybody want a silver spoon (now everybody want me to hand-feed ’em)
cartier my left wrist, bust this b-tch here, twenty thousand (bling, blaow)
stupid-ass n-gga done shot himself, cheddar bob, 8 mile (dumb b-tch)
i ain’t had no blueprint, i just did it, this a freestyle (comin’ off the top, n-gga)
man, these n-ggas worser than they opps, they d-ck-eat style (what the f-ck?)
[chorus]
i done ran it up, never too bougie to eat a chicken box (i ain’t never been too bougie)
young and turnt, soon as it’s hot outside, i’ll go and drop the top (fast sh-t)
some bad sh-t, she got on booty shorts and a crop-top (yeah, b-tch, i’m with some bad sh-t)
i don’t need security when i’m ridin’ with this chop-chop
yeah, uh, i get in my zone, watch me get it on (get in that zone, n-gga)
yeah, uh, eater from atlanta, got that georgia dome (got georgia dome)
yeah, uh, before you play, just think about you in a funeral home (how you look)
i could never hate, that’s some broke-n-gga syndrome (uh, uh, uh)

[verse 2]
frrt, frrt, frrt, frrt, gen5 with a b-tton (yeah, yeah)
mrgfn, mr. goin’ for nothin’ (b-tch, i ain’t goin’ for sh-t)
now young jungle lit, i done met my cousins all the sudden (i got so many cousins now)
if them n-ggas ain’t talkin’ ’bout no backend, they ain’t talkin’ ’bout nothin’ (don’t wanna hear it)
had to turn it up a notch, i slap this b-tch in sports mode (skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
youngin pop out rich as f-ck, they think he got a cheat code (think i got a cheat code)
dumb-ass n-gga all in his feelings, he done cuffed a freak ho (he done hit that nat-ass b-tch)
pull up, send a n-gga back to god, it’s like i repo (i’ma send a n-gga home)
rather eat church’s chicken, i ain’t even gon’ lie, i ain’t into steak (i don’t like no steak)
n-gga had his own, he still wanna come and eat off my plate (dumb-ass n-gga)
i’m gon’ dish out so much smoke, you’d think i made a vape (what the f-ck?)
you’d think i was simon, she gon’ do just what i say, yeah (yeah)

[chorus]
i done ran it up, never too bougie to eat a chicken box (i ain’t never been too bougie, n-gga)
young and turnt, soon as it’s hot outside, i’ll go and drop the top (fast sh-t)
some bad sh-t, she got on booty shorts and a crop-top (yeah, b-tch, i’m with some bad sh-t)
i don’t need security when i’m ridin’ with this chop-chop (what the f-ck, n-gga?)
yeah, uh, i get in my zone, watch me get it on (get in that mode, yeah)
yeah, uh, eater from atlanta, got that georgia dome (bae got georgia dome, ugh, ugh)
yeah, uh, before you play, just think about you in a funeral home (casket fresh-ass n-gga)
i could never hate, that’s some broke-n-gga syndrome (i could never hate, on god)
[outro]
frrt, frrt, frrt, frrt
ayy, my brother, you see me hatin’ on a n-gga, you just gon’ have to take my life away, n-gga, i ain’t—
you know what i’m sayin’?
big jungle, i don’t do no hatin’
oh, we the biggest in the city, ain’t sh-t bigger than the mob, you hear me?
yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, p-ssy n-gga
f-ck you mean?
frrt

- baby jungle

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS