Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lawd Jesus, artist - cupcakKe. Date of issue: 05.03.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Lawd Jesus |
| Ayy |
| When I walk in a room, all the niggas lookin' at me like «What is my income?» |
| Not jumpin' no brooms, that nigga get stood up like how the broom challenge |
| just went down |
| Don’t wanna assume but bitches really broke and I don’t know where y’all get |
| rent from |
| And I’ma just spit in your face if you walk up to me asking me «Can I spit sumn? |
| 'Cause I do not talk if it ain’t about money |
| I look at your mouth like you ramblin' |
| I can merch this on God, I just lost 700K off of nothin' but gamblin' |
| I went sick and got fraud but I had to fight all my demons, that shit was real |
| challengin' |
| So now when I walk around people with money, I say shut up like a mannequin |
| (Shh) |
| So I can just soak up they info |
| Now my bank copy that, that’s ten fold |
| I don’t go wherever the wind blow |
| 'Cause if my wig fall off, that’s the end ho |
| But lucky I’m paid, edges stay laid like prostitutes on a Friday night |
| While you suckin' his thing, I’m outside pullin' strings |
| Like a bitch flyin' kites |
| And no I don’t rock mics |
| Red bottoms with the spikes |
| Tinted windows, out of sight |
| No cash, just swipe |
| Cashier like, «Yikes! |
| She’s black not white» |
| When I hop off my flight, Naomi Campbell with the wipes, ayy |
| Save his number under «typo» 'cause that nigga wasn’t my type |
| It’s nothin' to talk to these niggas like shit but I’d rather not do that today |
| 'Cause niggas be trippin', I’d rather just tell a nigga «Tie your fuckin' |
| shoelace» |
| And niggas is bitches, I’d rather just give they ass a motherfuckin' bouquet |
| And I’m really birthing bitches when they drop an album then that’s my due date, |
| ayy |
| Bitch I’m eating good, double chin, black card match her skin |
| Fuck all my old friends, I’m not tryna make amends (Lawd, Jesus) |
| I said «Mama chill, we gon' win» |
| Money keep comin' in |
| I’m tryna change from back then |
| But every time I hear the sins (Lawd, Jesus) |
| I’m on some positive vibes but every time niggas testin' my patience |
| Only could wait for so long, before I do you wrong |
| 'Cause I’m not a waitress (On God) |
| Every December 31st, I go in the new year with no type of hatred |
| Then back January 3rd, the neighbors hurt, while they treating my playlist |
| Man these dirty bitches don’t do the dishes |
| Then tell a nigga «Come eat the butt» (How?) |
| And wake up with crust in they ass and that shit thicker than Pizza Hut |
| But I’m off it, they coughin' |
| Yeah I know how to market, no Boston |
| Tell a nigga don’t talk it, just walk it |
| Pop a nigga like John’s way too often (Brrr) |
| Bitch I’m eating good, double chin, black card match her skin |
| Fuck all my old friends, I’m not tryna make amends (Lawd, Jesus) |
| I said «Mama chill, we gon' win» |
| Money keep comin' in |
| I’m tryna change from back then |
| But every time I hear the sins (Lawd, Jesus) |