Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song What You Sayin, artist - DJ E-FeezyDate of issue: 18.04.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
What You Sayin |
| Hit you with no delaying so what you sayin' yo |
| Niggas ain’t paying so I just been laying low |
| I’m all about famo like Marlon Brando |
| My bitch go commando, I’m in command though |
| I hit you with ammo, quick as a Lambo |
| I play with her pussy hole like flipping channels |
| And my bitches is too live like Luther Campbell |
| And I’m spitting this shit though like I chew tobacco |
| Shimmy shimmy ya shimmy yay |
| I’ma kick a nigga in his mouth; |
| MMA |
| I’ma stick a semi in his mouth; |
| kissy face |
| I’ma lose the weight in the drought; |
| Ricki Lake |
| I’ma get the white and put it out; |
| Em & Dre |
| I’ma fuck her sisters and her mom; |
| Kim & Ye |
| They respect all my artistry like Hemingway |
| And they respect all of my martians, that’s why they give me space |
| Muthafucka now you see what’s up in my hand so what you sayin woe? |
| Cause I put yo fuckin' brains all on the dashboard |
| You not in my fuckin' lane you on the crash course |
| And if you feelin' froggy leap, I’m kidnapping yo tadpoles |
| I can’t remember the bitch name I fucked after my last show |
| When I say my cash low, I’m just telling a bad joke |
| Long hair, don’t care, no shirt like Fabio |
| Little nigga dreadlocks with a dick with an afro |
| (Woo-hah!) I got you all in check |
| I make her (Woo-hah!) and now she on my breath |
| I’m with my Goombah, we ridin' on your set |
| And we can shoot out 'till it’s quiet on the set |
| Boo ya like Stu Scott and peace up where he rest |
| Bitch I’m groundbreaking and I’m taking baby steps |
| I’m about to bust a rhyme; |
| nod yo head and break ya neck |
| I’ma kill these motherfuckas, you ain’t dead, fake ya death |
| I ain’t playing, I’ma hit you with no delaying and I ain’t paying ho |
| I come through me and my woes looking like Camp Lo |
| This is it, what? |
| Luchini falling from the sky |
| Let’s get rich what? |
| Boy, I been rich since 95' |
| Where you been boy? |
| Money talks and I’m about to send a invoice to them boys |
| Yeah I’m tried of this bullshit, I’m wilding, I’m too lit |
| I aim at yo toothpick, leave yo brains in yo boo tits |
| Yeah, I’m tied up with feds, put some guap on yo head |
| Now they can’t find your body, like the sock in the bed |
| This is it, boy, you done dug yourself a hole |
| That’s a pit, boy, that’s where I shit, boy |
| Uh, type of a nigga that’ll slap you with the tooley-o |
| It ain’t about what you smoke, it’s about who you smoke |
| My homeboy Hoody, yo, he real moody, yo |
| I tell him no bullet folks, he still do it tho' |
| They give you a funeral, you won’t be viewable |
| When Tunechi come thru' the door, them hoes get super soaked |
| Now do you really wanna party with me? |
| Let me sees whatcha got fo' me |
| Aye, do you really wanna party with me? |
| In Squad we trust! |
| Puffin' on that stuff, eyes low than Connie Chung |
| They don’t fuck with us cuz they know that we not the ones |
| Boy, we got them guns, scare the holy shit out the nuns |
| Yo, it’s young money, my nigga, you know we bout to bust |
| And everybody armed, more armed than Octopus |
| Write my name on my cups, so nigga know not to touch |
| Every time I bust a rhyme, another one bites the dust |
| Tunechi! |
| Busta, fuck wit me! |