Numbers lyrics

by

Boosie Badazz


[Intro]
Yeah
Thugger Thugger
Got my brodie London in this motherf*cker, man
I'm tellin' ya this beat hard as... this song hard as f*ck, listen, bro, uh
I go up, up, up and away
And I got old hundreds, they wrinkled like a Shar Pei (What?)
Plus I'm the realest n*gga inside the A (What?)
Yeah

[Chorus]
And them boys in Atlanta, they don't play, yeah (Uh)
And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's, yeah (Yeah)
And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkey n*ggas (What?)
I got plenty ammo for your bumblin', n*gga
Ammo for these pus*y motherf*ckas (Yeah)
Run up, I swear to God I want tears from your mother (Yeah)
f*ck n*gga trippin', I'll get prison and f*ck your father (What?)
I'ma tell 'em one time, ain't goin' (Puss) farther
I'm doin' numbers (No, no)

[Verse 1]
I got bands in the bando (No no), and I'm beatin' David Banner (Yeah)
And I'm smokin' on cabana (Yeah), leanin', movin' slow as grandma (Racks)
Motor runnin', spent them commas, now it's thunder (What?)
Count a hundred, want a hundred more, that's hunger (Hunger)
Yeah, baby, Thugger Thugger hungry, yes, I'm hungry
Young Thugger got the munchies (Yeah)
All my diamonds come in yellow like a Funyun (Yeah)
Yeah, all my gold made 'em sick and they can vomit (Guh)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah... pus*y n*gga know they can vomit
I'm growin' green, me and Chi-Chi, no pet
But (What?), I'm chasin' dreams, free Meek Milly
[Chorus]
And them boys in Atlanta, they (Hey) don't play (Hey), yeah (Hey)
And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's, yeah (Tote them k's yeah)
And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkey n*ggas (What?)
I got plenty ammo for your bumblin', n*gga (And what else, and what?)
Ammo for these pus*y motherf*ckas
Run up I swear to God I want tears from your mother (Yeah)
f*ck n*gga trippin', I'll get prison and f*ck your father (What?)
I'ma tell 'em one time, ain't goin' farther (Ain't tellin' 'em)
I'm doin' numbers (Yeah, numbers, numbers, numbers)

[Verse 2]
I'ma tell 'em one time (Swear, swear, swear, swear)
Yeah, I can read his mind
Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, then start ridin' (Skrrt, gah, gah)
Brand new 24's, b*tch on climb (Woah, skrr)
You's a busta, mothaf*cka rhymes
No sticky fingers, no porcupine
Hey (Yee), genius, I'll chase the day
Wait (Sheesh), let me pick up his remains
Hey (Sheesh), let them gators get their prey
(Brr, brr, brr), Hold up, hold up, wait

[Chorus]
And them boys in Atlanta, they don't play, yeah
And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's, yeah
And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkey n*ggas
I got plenty ammo for your bumblin', n*gga
Ammo for these pus*y motherf*ckas
Run up, I swear to God I want tears from your mother
f*ck n*gga trippin', I'll get prison and f*ck your father
I'ma tell 'em one time, ain't goin' farther
I'm doin' numbers
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net