"BRIKOLAI VOLKOFF" lyrics
Rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah (Grrt, la música de Harry Fraud)
Yeah, yeah (Grrt, grrt)
Fuckin' boogeyman, nigga
Rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah
Grrt
Rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah (Greatest curator of all time, nigga)
Grrt (Super FlyGod)
Ayo, call me God for short
I'm from the East side where we shoot shit (Rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah)
If he gotta go, he gotta go
In a pot deep, elbows touchin'
Tony figured for a joke for the last rock, now you're on crutches (Ah)
'26 GT, I did a hundred just to wake it up (Skrrt)
Mayo jars had the yay twirlin', I had to shake it up (Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha)
You broke, you pussy (Woo)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em
"You broke, you pussy" (Tell 'em, don't tell 'em nothin')
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em (Woo, no, no, no, no)
"You fake, you pussy" (Brrt, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em, "No" (Woo)
But I can get it to you whole, thirty-six O's
If you touch the hem of the Louis coat
Bitch, you owe me (Woo)
Bitch, you owe me (Woo)
If they ask you who run shit, you better have it set up (You better said me)
Go to war wi— You better have your bread up (Brrt, bap, bap, bap)
Fuck around and get wet up (Brrt, bap, bow)
Put so much money on your top, Pac can't help you keep your fuckin' head up (Ha-ha-ha-ha)
Amalfi Coast in the big row
We was tryna buy 30s, said I only got ten on me (I did, yeah)
Believed it when they said they didn't owe me (Woo)
Why would I be talkin' to them niggas? I was droppin' work on they big homie (Woo)
Half an ounce in the water just to test it (Keep goin')
Courtside, powder on the triple lashes (Keep goin')
Footprints on a brick, I ain't lost a step
All these killer rappers, I might put 'em together and wear 'em to the Met (Ah, huh, Stove)
You broke (Brrt), you pussy (Bap, bap, bap, woo)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em
"You broke, you pussy" (Tell 'em, don't tell 'em nothin')
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em (Woo, no, no, no, no)
"You fake, you pussy" (Brrt, bap, bap)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em, "No" (Woo)
But I can get it to you whole (Get it), thirty-six O's
If you touch the hem of the Louis coat
Bitch, you owe me (Woo)
Bitch, I'm Luther Vandross with a brick
Six hundred on my neck
Fuck wrong with these niggas? Griselda (Griselda)
I got a cross on my stomach from that random old shooting
Niggas tryna kill me, what the fuck I'm doing?
Tryna get to it, got me hit in the leg
Tryna take me out, make your pussy ass mad
One for the head, other chest and the leg
Baby girl wanna fuck the best, that's too bad
Talkin' to my motherfuckin' nigga, get you hit
.45 slugs comin' out the chamber quick
I should've told you now that you don't want no beef
Solitary side, holler nigga in the streets
When you play a 9, nigga, you gon' feel the heat
Thirty fuckin' rounds as I put 'em straight to sleep
F-L-I-P, fuck, if you know the name
OG Eastside Flip, boy, I'll blow your, blow your brain
Yeah, yeah (Grrt, grrt)
Fuckin' boogeyman, nigga
Rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah
Grrt
Rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah (Greatest curator of all time, nigga)
Grrt (Super FlyGod)
Ayo, call me God for short
I'm from the East side where we shoot shit (Rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah, rrah)
If he gotta go, he gotta go
In a pot deep, elbows touchin'
Tony figured for a joke for the last rock, now you're on crutches (Ah)
'26 GT, I did a hundred just to wake it up (Skrrt)
Mayo jars had the yay twirlin', I had to shake it up (Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha)
You broke, you pussy (Woo)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em
"You broke, you pussy" (Tell 'em, don't tell 'em nothin')
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em (Woo, no, no, no, no)
"You fake, you pussy" (Brrt, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em, "No" (Woo)
But I can get it to you whole, thirty-six O's
If you touch the hem of the Louis coat
Bitch, you owe me (Woo)
Bitch, you owe me (Woo)
If they ask you who run shit, you better have it set up (You better said me)
Go to war wi— You better have your bread up (Brrt, bap, bap, bap)
Fuck around and get wet up (Brrt, bap, bow)
Put so much money on your top, Pac can't help you keep your fuckin' head up (Ha-ha-ha-ha)
Amalfi Coast in the big row
We was tryna buy 30s, said I only got ten on me (I did, yeah)
Believed it when they said they didn't owe me (Woo)
Why would I be talkin' to them niggas? I was droppin' work on they big homie (Woo)
Half an ounce in the water just to test it (Keep goin')
Courtside, powder on the triple lashes (Keep goin')
Footprints on a brick, I ain't lost a step
All these killer rappers, I might put 'em together and wear 'em to the Met (Ah, huh, Stove)
You broke (Brrt), you pussy (Bap, bap, bap, woo)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em
"You broke, you pussy" (Tell 'em, don't tell 'em nothin')
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em (Woo, no, no, no, no)
"You fake, you pussy" (Brrt, bap, bap)
If they ask you if I'm still cookin', tell 'em, "No" (Woo)
But I can get it to you whole (Get it), thirty-six O's
If you touch the hem of the Louis coat
Bitch, you owe me (Woo)
Bitch, I'm Luther Vandross with a brick
Six hundred on my neck
Fuck wrong with these niggas? Griselda (Griselda)
I got a cross on my stomach from that random old shooting
Niggas tryna kill me, what the fuck I'm doing?
Tryna get to it, got me hit in the leg
Tryna take me out, make your pussy ass mad
One for the head, other chest and the leg
Baby girl wanna fuck the best, that's too bad
Talkin' to my motherfuckin' nigga, get you hit
.45 slugs comin' out the chamber quick
I should've told you now that you don't want no beef
Solitary side, holler nigga in the streets
When you play a 9, nigga, you gon' feel the heat
Thirty fuckin' rounds as I put 'em straight to sleep
F-L-I-P, fuck, if you know the name
OG Eastside Flip, boy, I'll blow your, blow your brain
