Categories
Lyrics

Dae Dae – New Wave

[Intro]
Boy they already know what it is when I talk this shit here
Dae Dae let’s go and give it to ’em boy
Let’s go’n get ’em out the way, it’s a new wave nigga

[Verse 1]
Neck piece too lit, this bitch too lit
AP two bricks, bad bitch too thick
Fashion, oohwee, backend, oohwee
Kardashian, two piece, MAC or that Uzi
Trappin’ by pool creek, action when it’s ’bout me
They say you not the man in the streets
I’m flashy, now you got with the key
I crashed it, now I’m in that new straight A Jeep
It’s happenin’, they finally freed my fuckin’ brother D
Don’t panic, man time to turn up on them beats
I’m dangerous, oh you actin’ hard? nigga please
Gang with me, and we in the club one hundred deep nigga

[Chorus]
This bitch too lit, thug bitch, Ruth Chris
Dark bitch, dark shades, dark pay, okay
Red bitch, Charday, red bottoms, two K
Yachtmaster forty K, Atlanta new wave
This bitch too lit, thug bitch, Ruth Chris
Dark bitch, dark shades, dark pay, okay
Red bitch, Charday, red bottoms, two K
Yachtmaster forty K, Atlanta new wave

[Verse 2]
Atlanta new wave, I got Bluray, woo
Still in the burbs, bitch I’m too paid
The Forgis make me swerve when I’m cruisin’
I know I make ’em nervous how I do this shit nigga
Pop the donk on Irving, leave the keys in the ignition
And I’m shooting like Curry nigga, try me I’ma swish it
My big chain nervous, I got racks and I got glizzy
In that blue excursion, I’m in traffic sitting on inches
I might go to Follies, go to Flame and throw a twenty
I might take her shopping buy her that but ain’t no feeling
She still go to college but her daddy don’t be tripping
And I’m with my partners, time to turn up with my niggas

[Chorus]
This bitch too lit, thug bitch, Ruth Chris
Dark bitch, dark shades, dark pay, okay
Red bitch, Charday, red bottoms, two K
Yachtmaster forty K, Atlanta new wave
This bitch too lit, thug bitch, Ruth Chris
Dark bitch, dark shades, dark pay, okay
Red bitch, Charday, red bottoms, two K
Yachtmaster forty K, Atlanta new wave

[Verse 3]
It’s the new wave, I got blue rays
Might pull out the garage in the new Wraith
Fuck ’em if they hatin’, bitch I’m too paid
I’m clutchin’ ’cause they hatin’ but it’s cool, hate
My bitch too lit, your bitch my bitch
Big rim, big crib, four-fifth, right here
I won’t let you try me ever ever again
This lil bitch want molly, she want percs and shit (molly percocets)
You know it ain’t no problem, we gon’ work the shit
Order up them bottles, Dae Dae got this bitch lit
And we want them hoes that bring all her friends
We got this bitch loaded, go’n and turn up, yeah

[Chorus]
This bitch too lit, thug bitch, Ruth Chris
Dark bitch, dark shades, dark pay, okay
Red bitch, Charday, red bottoms, two K
Yachtmaster forty K, Atlanta new wave
This bitch too lit, thug bitch, Ruth Chris
Dark bitch, dark shades, dark pay, okay
Red bitch, Charday, red bottoms, two K
Yachtmaster forty K, Atlanta new wave

Categories
Lyrics

Peek a boo – Lil Yachty feat. Migos lyrics

Lyrics Lil Yachty – Peek a boo

Ricky Racks
Peek a boo, woo!
Peek-a-boooo.

Uh, uh, play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uhhh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that money like peek-a-boo, ooh
Play with these b*tches like peek-a-boo, uh
Broke a*s b*tch a*s nigga
I’m not finna’ play with you, that’s what these rappers do
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, b*tch versuri-lyrics.info
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, nigga
Lil Boat
I’m not finna’ play with you, that’s what these rappers do.

Red dot, red dot, red dot, red dot, red dot
On his nose like Rudolph
Pull up to the scene, all white with the roof off
Take that lil’ b*tch to the Ruth Chris
f*ck her, then f*ck on her sister, I’m ruthless
Chill on the 6 when I’m f*ckin’ on poochie
That b*tch was ugly, but pus*y on smoothie (wet)
Play with that kitty like hello
Took a step back then I bust it, I bust it, I bust it like Melo
Aiming at you and your fellows
My new b*tch yellow
She blow that d*ck like a cello
f*ck her then send that b*tch home on the metro
Oohhhh, young nigga fly like a pigeon
Versace frames, they be hidin’ my vision
Make sure all my niggas eat, that’s the mission
Emotion, I’ma go get it, go get it, I got it.

Uh, uh, play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek a boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that money like peek-a-boo, ooh
Play with these b*tches like peek-a-boo, uh
Broke a*s b*tch a*s nigga
I’m not finna’ play with you, that’s what these rappers do
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, nigga
I’m not finna’ play with you, that’s what these rappers do.

Open your eyes, b*tch you see all this money
Made that lil’ b*tch tape a brick to her stomach
You not the gang, we don’t kick it or punt it
Just bought the Wraith and I revved it tectonic
Look at the numbers, mechanics ain’t frontin’
I came from the lint, went to jail, I got punished, ooh
Pourin’ a four, Freddy Kreuger, wow
My niggas turn barracuda
You cappin’, I came from trappin’
I used to have the dope stashed in the cabinet (dope!)
Mama couldn’t tell me s**t, where was my daddy? (Mom)
Look at my Patek, I’m flexin’, I’m petty (I’m petty)
I f*cked the pus*y the first time I met it
Won’t give you no credit, you ate it, spaghetti
I cook the brick, cut the brick with machetes
Married the money, the b*tch wasn’t ready, uh, uhhh.

Uh, uh, play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peeka boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that money like peek-a-boo, ooh
Play with these b*tches like peek-a-boo, uh
Broke a*s b*tch a*s nigga
I’m not finna’ play with you, that’s what these rappers do
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, b*tch
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, nigga
I’m not finna’ play with you, that’s what these rappers do.

New grey drop top Audi, 2013, yeah
White coco, butterfly wings, 2k17
Ice (ice), came out the machine (ice)
Came out the machine (ice baby)
Draco, Uzi, Tommy gun, SK (Tommy gun), all machines, brrrt
Yeah, hey, pull up on the side of ’em, skrrt
Let the clip ride on ’em
Ayy, f*ck 12, open fire on ’em (f*ck 12)
Open up fire on ’em (f*ck 12)
Yeah, don’t tuck in my chain (nah)
I’m with the gang (gang,) hit you with range
Scattering showers, here come the rain
Icy Hot sleeve, these niggas in pain, hey.

Uh, uh, play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek a boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that pus*y like peek-a-boo, uh
Play with that money like peek-a-boo, ooh
Play with these b*tches like peek-a-boo, uh
Broke a*s b*tch a*s nigga
I’m not finna’ play with you, that’s what these rappers do.

Left wrist white, it’s the Patek (Philippe)
Bad white b*tch with a fatty (unique)
Smokin’ on cookies from granny (trees)
Pocket rocket, go go gadget (go go)
I make a play, Madden (John)
I know it was some speculation ’bout who the one
But we invented the dabbin’ (dab)
f*ck it, we just let ’em have it (have it)
Draco for niggas with static (brrt, static)
I can do magic and make me a rabbit
With usin’ my karats (ice, woah)
Just like the package, I’m drinkin’ on Actavis, expensive habits (Actavis, mud)
Yellow b*tch, Pikachu (b*tch)
Cameltoe peekin’ at you (look at you)
Peek-a-boo
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-booo.
Lil Yachty lyrics
Video boo

Categories
Lyrics

Manolo Rose – Ball Drop

[Intro]
Hello?
Hello?
Who?

[Pre-Hook]
Ring, ring, ring, homie whose this?
New number, homie whose this?
You ain’t heard? I’m on some new shit
You ain’t heard? I’m on some new shit
S.T.K over Ruth Chris
S.T.K over Ruth Chris
Last year I had the four door
This year I’m on some coupe shit

[Hook]
But homie when the ball drop
Yo homie when the ball drop
Word to God I’m on some new shit
Word to God I’m on some new shit

[Verse 1]
New Years Resolution
Stop praising sucka niggas that ain’t do shit
Fresher guns I ain’t shoot shit
Stop telling lies I’m the truth bitch
Way before the deal I was loopy
Bakin for the cash money like you’re Tunechi
Might do the 84 drug dealer Gucci
Went stupid in this spot but we made a movie

[Pre-Hook]
Ring, ring, ring, homie whose this?
New number, homie whose this?
You ain’t heard? I’m on some new shit
You ain’t heard? I’m on some new shit
S.T.K over Ruth Chris
S.T.K over Ruth Chris
Last year I had the four door
This year I’m on some coupe shit

[Hook]
But homie when the ball drop
Yo homie when the ball drop
Word to God I’m on some new shit
Word to God I’m on some new shit

[Verse 2]
New Years Resolution
Bands to the letters is the only resolution
How much in the bank? Who stop, we just shoot it
Everything good in my pocket. Boy I do this!
We just spendin’ all that extra
Presidential Rollie but I kept the bezel regular
She ain’t fuck you or your homies cause you’re regular
You the type to bug on ya bitch cause she next to us

[Pre-Hook]
Ring, ring, ring, homie whose this?
New number, homie whose this?
You ain’t heard? I’m on some new shit
You ain’t heard? I’m on some new shit. (resolution)
S.T.K over Ruth Chris
S.T.K over Ruth Chris
Last year I had the four door
This year I’m on some coupe shit

[Hook]
But homie when the ball drop
Yo homie when the ball drop
Word to God I’m on some new shit
Word to God I’m on some new shit

Categories
Lyrics

Jim Jones – Kitchen

[Jim Jones]
Vamp life
(I got that money)
You know what they say
Trap jumping
When it get to hot in the kitchen, uh
What you cooking? Chicken or fish?
(I don’t wanna hear you niggas talking about no more work)
How many pots on the stove?

[Hook: Cashout]
I got the money and I got the pack
(Got that pack)
I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
(Bring it right back)
Drop a four in it then drop [?]
They love when I be cooking up the blow
In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
Yeah
I got the money and I got the sack
(Got that sack)
I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
In the kitchen

[Verse 1: Jim Jones]
I got four pots going and a crock pot too
Cooked four quarters and I got back two
Want fishscale? And I got that too
But I’m dry right now
Nigga stop back through
Talking ’bout cooking the whiter shade
Nigga’s be using the microwave
They booked ’em and took ’em in right away
He might never see the light of day
The walls in my kitchen all yellow
So I put the coke in the fridge like it’s Jello
You know you got to guard the kitchen
So I keep shooters in New York like Carmello
I be cooking that shit like it’s Ruth Chris
Cooking that shit to a new whip
Look at that shit while I’m hitting that shit
Now I’m whipping that shit like its Cool Whip
Traffic, compression then stretch it
To buy it we don’t need to test it
If it ain’t about money don’t stress it
Put the Tec to a nigga like a message
Still cooking coke like five stars
Young dope boy with five cars
All cash nigga how be buy ours
Yeah we live fast and we die hard

[Hook]
I got the money and I got the pack
(Got that pack)
I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
(Bring it right back)
Drop a four in it then drop [?]
They love when I be cooking up the blow
In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
Yeah
I got the money and I got the sack
(Got that sack)
I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
In the kitchen

[Verse 2: Hell Rell]
Ruger!
Man I got the money and I got the pack
You know a Ruger to this little light-skinned bitch
He ain’t never gotta buy
(Hey baby)
All I gotta do is look at my shooter and he ‘gon pop the strap
Uptown with the mother-fuckin’ killers is where you’ll find me at
Might cook a whole brick with my gun on me
Shoot my old man if he run on me
Bury me in all gold
At least put a mother-fucking ton on me
Man these nigga’s ain’t living right
Don’t be suprised if you got a [?] homie
I brought some real money out tonight
In case niggas front on me
In my kitchen
I’m in love in my kitchen
When my hand start to itchin’ then them bricks get to flippin’
Bought a house with ten bathrooms, because I stay shittin’
Nigga’s look funny then my shooters start hittin’
(Hittin’)

[Hook]
I got the money and I got the pack
(Got that pack)
I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
(Bring it right back)
Drop a four in it then drop [?]
They love when I be cooking up the blow
In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
I’m in love with my kitchen
Yeah
I got the money and I got the sack
(Got that sack)
I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
In the kitchen

[Verse 3: Philthy Rich]
Uh-huh
It’s Philthy nigga
I do!
Look

I say now forty birds in my caravan
This forty on me got a kick-stand
I’m in love with the kitchen nigga
Tell the hoe do the dishes nigga
(Ay, clean up bitch!)
Two stoves and eight pots
Two niggas cooking eight blocks
The [?] from foot heels to [?] that’s eight blocks
In the kitchen like culinary
These nigga’s actors like Tyler Perry
Ain’t never move no kilos
Couldn’t find you one like Nemo
My whole hood been locked up for trafficking, doing life nigga
On 580 doing eighty nigga with an eighty pack of that white shit
Thirty-six and the whole whammy
In a cereal box stuffed in the cabinet
Right behind all the baking soda
If you cook it right you might take it over
Fish-scale, my lips sealed, I’ll never tell what I don’ seen
Bag it up, put a thousand grams on the triple-beam
(It’s Philthy)