Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Frenchmen, artist - Bfb Da Packman. Date of issue: 24.06.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Frenchmen |
| Please don’t ever use that, it’s so embarrassing to me |
| What, the Lunch Crew? |
| Her |
| The Lunch Crew Company |
| [Verse 1: BFB Da Packman & |
| Benny the Butcher |
| I-I-I just bought my bitch a body (Yeah), her physique a façade |
| Flashback to sellin' coke to my granddaddy, I’m in need of Allah (Yeah) |
| Dope boys and diamonds don’t go together, that shit be screamin' the law |
| And Bobo told me, «If you go fed, don’t repeat what you saw» |
| You niggas yeast, we don’t need heat, we see that you soft (Yeah) |
| I hid a pack under my stomach, wasn’t no weed in my draws (Facts) |
| I left Flint duckin' indictment, ended up beating the odds (Hello) |
| And I got rich and there’s still Camry’s in my Fleeton garage (Woo) |
| «Free Joe Exotic» got us rich when we was hustlin' for better (Yeah) |
| Tellin' my dawg I love him before he meet his plug in the desert (I love you) |
| He made it back with more work, business be good, but I’m stressin' (Yeah) |
| 'Cause I had thoughts, they filled the flaw and they was really gon' stretch |
| 'em (Facts) |
| That’s a rhyme, 5th grade, is you a thug or not? |
| (Okay) |
| Fuck robbin' and shootin', I’d rather hug the block |
| Bobo showed me how to maneuver, not even my fuckin' pops |
| My real dad was like, «Fuck my son, I’d rather hug a rock» (Ooh) |
| No more dissin' that nigga, come on, let’s switch the subject |
| 'Cause when I spit my truths someway, somehow I piss off my mother |
| I’m raw and uncut, I’d even fuck a distant cousin |
| Put my dick between two bitches lips and make them kiss each other (Mwah) |
| You might catch me out in Silicon Valley (Yeah) |
| With Sketcher flip-flops, Nike hoodie, never rockin' no Bali (Yeah) |
| On the phone talkin' to my guy, I’m just happy he smilin' |
| The fent' overdosed the fiend and feds hit him with the body ( |
| The Butcher comin', nigga |
| The Lunch Crew Company |
| I’m givin' niggas this work, clip send you niggas to church |
| I bump into my old opps, they like, «Send a nigga some merch"(Fuck outta here) |
| They see my whips and start tryna guess what I get for a verse (Huh?) |
| The IRS wanna break down what each of my syllables worth |
| Niggas ain’t catchin' up (Nah) |
| I collected so much paper and delivered enough brown |
| Now my whip like a FedEx truck, mm |
| My dawg crushin' Xanax pills in a 7-Up |
| He fell in love with some hood rat pussy and she set him up (Felt bad for him) |
| They don’t value respect no more (Nah), only bands |
| That’s crazy, I know a mail lady with an OnlyFans |
| I’m on the cam rollin' dutches out turkey bags on the 'Gram |
| I’m goin' live leakin' shit off my album just for the fans, nah |
| I don’t TikTok, so don’t ask me to start a dance (You know I don’t do that shit) |
| Unless these big rocks doin' a butterfly on my hands |
| Vintage Gucci collection with butterflies on my pants |
| I could cook a brick of dope with rope double tied to my hands, yeah |
| I hit Packman and said, «You nice, yeah, I’ll give you that» (I fuck with you) |
| Plus you gettin' rich, can’t believe you ain’t fuck Lizzo yet (Not yet) |
| But y’all gon' bust U-turns when it’s your time, depend on that |
| These rappers shoot vids then they give they jewels and the rental back |
| Stackin' paper, I been on that |
| But they broke, mm, we figured that |
| I push the kinda whips that she gotta fuck if she sit in that, yeah |
| I was sellin' 'caine on the realest streets |
| Now I’m a legend, so I’ma sell my 'caine on an NFT, let’s go (Let's go, |
| let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go) |