Done lyrics

[Intro: Trippie Redd]
(When-when-when I say)
Yeah (Done)
Yeah man (Alright, alright, alright)
Yeah man (Done)
(DJ Paul)
Woah, woah (Done)
(Alright, alright, alright)

[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Listen, when I say "Finish him," you say "Done" (Done)
Hundred round drums, pus*y n*gga, you done (Done)
I don't give a f*ck, I got some dope up in my lungs (Yeah)
Came up from the trenches, pus*y n*gga, off the crumbs (Yeah)
When I say "Finish him," you say "Done" (Done)
Hundred round drums, pus*y n*gga, you done (Done)
Murder, murder, murder, and you know we like guns (Yeah)
And you know we like guns (Yeah), and you know we like guns, uh (Yeah)

[Verse 1: Trippie Redd]
What they talkin' 'bout? (What they talkin' 'bout?)
What they talkin' 'bout? (What they talkin' 'bout?)
I don't give a f*ck, I pull up to your momma's house
Pull up to your auntie house (Yeah)
Or your granny house (Yeah)
Feel like poppin' out, gang know we gon' rock it out (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
All I see is dead people when I close my eyes (Eyes)
All I see is red, then I'm hopin' you survive (Boom)
Play 'round with the gang (Yeah), and you know I'll take your life (Ah)
Know I'll bring your death, we gon' pull up with that scythe (Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah), hmm
We gon' pull up with that scythe, take your life
Man I'm rockin' Off-White, b*tch, I feel like All Might
You know what it is, pus*y n*gga on sight
pus*y n*gga on sight, pus*y n*gga on sight
[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Listen, when I say "Finish him," you say "Done" (Done)
Hundred round drums, pus*y n*gga, you done (Done)
I don't give a f*ck, I got some dope up in my lungs (Yeah)
Came up from the trenches, pus*y n*gga, off the crumbs (Yeah)
When I say "Finish him," you say "Done" (Done)
Hundred round drums, pus*y n*gga, you done (Done)
Murder, murder, murder, and you know we like guns (Yeah)
And you know we like guns (Yeah), and you know we like guns, uh (Yeah)

[Verse 2: Rico Nasty]
He say I'm the flyest b*tch he ever met, yeah I know
My diamonds dancin' like disco, I just came from my show
Bad b*tch, she from San Francisco (Yeah)
You n*ggas softer than pillows, I'm whippin' my hair like Willow
She said that she real, I'm realer (Uh)
Diamonds dancin' like Thriller (Yeah)
We mob like gorillas (Huh, yeah)
Blowin' gas out the window, b*tch, you better pop that pus*y
I keep the heat on me, I don't get cold
I set the bar, honey, while you b*tches limbo (pus*y)
I don't do no snitchin', I ain't givin' out no info (No ho)
My b*tch is stupid thick, remind me of a hippo (What the f*ck?)
And we be shootin' sh*t, in case you n*ggas didn't know (Oh my God)
'Cause like Luda', we gon' make a b*tch get low (Ha, yeah, yeah, Rico, ha, yeah)
[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Listen, when I say "Finish him," you say "Done" (Done)
Hundred round drums, pus*y n*gga, you done (Done)
I don't give a f*ck, I got some dope up in my lungs (Yeah)
Came up from the trenches, pus*y n*gga, off the crumbs (Yeah)
When I say "Finish him," you say "Done" (Done)
Hundred round drums, pus*y n*gga, you done (Done)
Murder, murder, murder, and you know we like guns (Yeah)
And you know we like guns (Yeah), and you know we like guns, uh (Yeah)

[Outro]
When-when-when I say
pus*y ass, alright, alright, alright
When-when-when I say
pus*y ass, alright, alright, alright
When-when-when
pus*y ass, alright, alright, alright