Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hooked on Phonics , by - HoodRich Pablo Juan. Release date: 24.06.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Hooked on Phonics |
| Keep it real don’t cost a nigga nothing |
| I don’t wanna hear it, it ain’t 'bout the money |
| They ain’t used to want me, now they all on me |
| I know they jealous, they acting funny |
| Shorty thick, I ain’t talking 'bout chubby |
| You gotta go when I’m through cumming |
| Still having old shoebox hundreds |
| Got her hooked on narcotics, not phonics |
| Uh, put the bricks in the trap and they calling it yummy |
| Big booty freak, she suck dick with the bonnet |
| Put a pole in the condo, they calling it Onyx |
| Hit the dope, say my name three times like Jumanji |
| Three-five in the Backwood, I get the munchies |
| Bitch get that dope, then can tweak like a junkie |
| Twenty-eight glass bags served like a luncheon |
| Line full of junkies, it look like a function |
| Longway, bitch |
| You hating, your blood full of jealousy |
| You ain’t real, you can’t stand next to me |
| How the fuck you do that? |
| With the recipe |
| These fuck niggas can’t get the best of me |
| Gold on my neck, it’s a treasury |
| I walk with myself and I’m ten steps ahead of me |
| Ha, little-bitty boy, you petty |
| Ain’t gotta ask if I’m ready |
| Fuck what you say you gon' do to me |
| Ain’t gotta ask if I’m strapped, got two on me |
| All of that cap shit ain’t fooling me |
| Nigga, this trap shit ain’t new to me |
| I put the pack where it’s 'posed to be |
| Gotta make sure all my niggas got groceries |
| Got the S on the Draco like Bumblebee |
| Ooh, I take a loss, that shit humble me |
| Bitch, I’m a boss, you could come work for me |
| Run up the sack like deep blue sea |
| I eat the pack up like bon appétit |
| Couldn’t get it off, he got cold feet |
| Junkies in the trap give me ARP |
| The MPR chain with baguettes 3D |
| The bottom of the hill got a trap by the creek |
| Gotta keep a stick, call me AR Wee |
| Young nigga still bought the MPA piece |
| Run to the pack back to back like a zombie |
| Eating up the drip, call 'em Crocodile Dundee |
| Cook up that whip, I can serve to your auntie |
| Balenci' Jumanji, they come from Little Italy |
| Got Cartier frames, double G with the CC |
| If molly bricks shining, gotta come from overseas |
| Hit the lot, went off-white color in the seat |
| Back then, they ain’t love me, now VV my teeth |
| Change the TV when a rich nigga speak |
| Got a big booty freak in a Benz GT |
| Four sticks in the Trackhawk, riding four deep |
| Get the bag, get the bands, then you stepping like Meech |
| Put the rice in the pan, then you cook it like Geechees |
| Neighborhood Crip, I’m bluer than Jeezy |
| I can make a bitch go, «Woo, that’s Jesus» |
| Richard Mille baguettie, the burr, new freezer |
| I can make a bitch break her hip with the visa |
| Stripes on my back, I’m the referee, zebra |
| I can make the pack disappear like cleaver |
| AP the Patek, I ice it, Geneva |
| Runtz in the blunt, we don’t smoke on sativa |
| Hop out Spaghetti Junction with a nina |
| 'Bout my family, we gon' pop, Catalina |
| I’m on Xannies, she wishing like I’m a genie |
| Fettucini with the LV beanie |
| Independent, but the bank keep ringing |
| but the case keep pending |
| Two bricks, spent it on the MPA pendant |
| Longway, bitch |
| Keep it real don’t cost a nigga nothing |
| I don’t wanna hear it, it ain’t 'bout the money |
| They ain’t used to want me, now they all on me |
| I know they jealous, they acting funny |
| Shorty thick, I ain’t talking 'bout chubby |
| You gotta go when I’m through cumming |
| Still having old shoebox hundreds |
| Got her hooked on narcotics, not phonics |
| Uh, put the bricks in the trap and they calling it yummy |
| Big booty freak, she suck dick with the bonnet |
| Put a pole in the condo, they calling it Onyx |
| Hit the dope, say my name three times like Jumanji |
| Three-five in the Backwood, I get the munchies |
| Bitch get that dope, then can tweak like a junkie |
| Twenty-eight glass bags served like a luncheon |
| Line full of junkies, it look like a function |
| Longway, bitch |