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Bruce Lee
by
Zaytoven
Featuring(s) : Xhulooo
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Lyrics
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 shе say Oh, I heard you not gettin' money and you a chеapskate 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—
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