Correction Lyrics Who That Be (Josh Pan & Westine Remix) by Rich Brian

Back

Lyrics

Your b*t*h on me
But you can never do nothing
'Cause your mama raised a pu**y
Every time I walk to the drop top
Can't help but close my eyes
'Cause my whip so glossy
Goddamn, b*t*h
I don't smoke no gas
I don't pop no Xans
Hella cake
I just need that ass
Don't worry 'bout no mans
Look at me, look at he
You don't wanna f**k with we
Hit the streets, roll on me
You gon' end up in the sea

Seven thirty, wake up
Skrrt up in the lobby
Then proceed to flee
All my people riding
In the backseat, on a killing spree
Wait, who that be?
Ready on the count of three
Squeeze the G
Leave the scene
Bouncing like the trampoline

Getting bread, earn income, mane
Spend it on this Balmain
Work it all night
I might run into the Batman
Don't see no such thing
As a motherf**kin' bro, mane
You ain't f**king slick
If you think you in my team, mane

We gon' pull up on the kids
With a flat brim cap
And the tats, get the brick
And I don't give a f**k
Hit 'em with the damn d**ks
Man, hold up, pause
Now they red like Santa Claus
I'm a G
Bet there's something wrong with me
All these mans on the ground
Looking like the dead-ass-sea
Yeah, pull up on me
Sip a high tea 'til I O.D
I don't really give a f**k no more
Be skrrt-skrrt
Onomatopoe
b*t*h Grand Prix
Pull up on a f**king Enemy
Third degree (Goddamn)

Now I'ma go right back to the crib (To the crib, b*t*h)
And leave the f**king country with the brick
I'd call the cops on myself if I can (If I can)
This sh*t too crazy
Need the f**king ambulance (Ambulance)
Don't wear no jacket
I just wear that metal vest
Got all this money
But these b*t*hes unimpressed

music video

Your name will be published. Leave fields blanks to remain anonymous.