"Bruce Lee" lyrics
(feat. Xhulooo)
Woah, woah
Woah, woah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Uh, huh, huh
Uh, huh, huh
Uh, huh, huh, huh, huh
I'm drippin' from head to toe, rockin' Gucci
I like my girls bad and boujee
I hit my dance, do the Uzi
Karate whip, call it Bruce Lee
Feelin' like Gunna, man, it's too easy
You is my son, know you wanna be me
Mama, that's your baby boy on your TV
All black whip, no, you can't see me
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pull up and pop out
You don't get money, don't know what you talkin' 'bout
He is a lame, I think he finna opt out
All black truck, they be scared when I hop out
Say they want smoke, then we gave 'em a hotbox
I got my money flippin', playin' hopscotch
You cappin', you not hot
Coppers can't catch me, I do a hundred on the freeway on my B-day
And I keep a stick by my side, yeah, that's a key play, ain't no she say
Oh, I heard you not gettin' money and you a cheapskate with your cheap weight
When I get on the stage, they screamin' my name
Tryna run it back, where the DJ?
I want a hundred bands
Chop make 'em do the running man
Boo, telling you, I ain't runnin' in
I'm skrrtin' off in that Cullinan
Money blue, Jim Sullivan
Red hair like Republican
Racks sittin' in the double M
I get that bag that you fumblin'
I'm drippin' from head to toe, rockin' Gucci
I like my girls bad and boujee
I hit my dance, do the Uzi
Karate whip, call it Bruce Lee
Feelin' like Gunna, man, it's too easy
You is my son, know you wanna be me
Mama, that's your baby boy on your TV
All black whip, no, you can't see me (Zaytoven)
Yeah, I'm at the top, I don't care what is under me
Pockets so fat, swear they weighin' like a ton apiece
Black and yellow Lamb', swear it's lookin' like a bumblebee
If it ain't about the money, don't even talk to me
How they gon' hate on me, then still follow me?
Why your main chick in my DM tryna swallow me?
Money not gon' stop growin' 'til it's tall as me
If he talk down, I'ma hit him like it's archery (Woah, woah, uh, woah, woah)
We makin' money and you makin' nada
That boy a goofy, we laughin' like, "Haha"
Shoutout to tana, I'm flexin' that Prada
Hittin' on this girl, had to tell her, "Bye-bye"
I got 'em still wonderin' how I do it
How you got a gun and you not gon' shoot it?
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pull up and pop out
You don't get money, don't know what you talkin' 'bout
He is a lame, I think he finna opt out
All black truck, they be scared when I hop out
Say they want smoke, then we gave 'em a hotbox
I got my money flippin', playin' hopscotch
You cappin', you not hot
Coppers—
Woah, woah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Uh, huh, huh
Uh, huh, huh
Uh, huh, huh, huh, huh
I'm drippin' from head to toe, rockin' Gucci
I like my girls bad and boujee
I hit my dance, do the Uzi
Karate whip, call it Bruce Lee
Feelin' like Gunna, man, it's too easy
You is my son, know you wanna be me
Mama, that's your baby boy on your TV
All black whip, no, you can't see me
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pull up and pop out
You don't get money, don't know what you talkin' 'bout
He is a lame, I think he finna opt out
All black truck, they be scared when I hop out
Say they want smoke, then we gave 'em a hotbox
I got my money flippin', playin' hopscotch
You cappin', you not hot
Coppers can't catch me, I do a hundred on the freeway on my B-day
And I keep a stick by my side, yeah, that's a key play, ain't no she say
Oh, I heard you not gettin' money and you a cheapskate with your cheap weight
When I get on the stage, they screamin' my name
Tryna run it back, where the DJ?
I want a hundred bands
Chop make 'em do the running man
Boo, telling you, I ain't runnin' in
I'm skrrtin' off in that Cullinan
Money blue, Jim Sullivan
Red hair like Republican
Racks sittin' in the double M
I get that bag that you fumblin'
I'm drippin' from head to toe, rockin' Gucci
I like my girls bad and boujee
I hit my dance, do the Uzi
Karate whip, call it Bruce Lee
Feelin' like Gunna, man, it's too easy
You is my son, know you wanna be me
Mama, that's your baby boy on your TV
All black whip, no, you can't see me (Zaytoven)
Yeah, I'm at the top, I don't care what is under me
Pockets so fat, swear they weighin' like a ton apiece
Black and yellow Lamb', swear it's lookin' like a bumblebee
If it ain't about the money, don't even talk to me
How they gon' hate on me, then still follow me?
Why your main chick in my DM tryna swallow me?
Money not gon' stop growin' 'til it's tall as me
If he talk down, I'ma hit him like it's archery (Woah, woah, uh, woah, woah)
We makin' money and you makin' nada
That boy a goofy, we laughin' like, "Haha"
Shoutout to tana, I'm flexin' that Prada
Hittin' on this girl, had to tell her, "Bye-bye"
I got 'em still wonderin' how I do it
How you got a gun and you not gon' shoot it?
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pull up and pop out
You don't get money, don't know what you talkin' 'bout
He is a lame, I think he finna opt out
All black truck, they be scared when I hop out
Say they want smoke, then we gave 'em a hotbox
I got my money flippin', playin' hopscotch
You cappin', you not hot
Coppers—
