Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song SUPER TUESDAY!, artist - JPEGMAFIA.
Date of issue: 05.11.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
SUPER TUESDAY! |
Nigga think he Steph Curry, boy, you Ilgauskas |
Pop filter, bump stockin' |
One shot turn Steve Bannon into Steve Hawking |
R. Kelly, jiggalo, I’m dough pilin' |
But I don’t fuck with little kids, bitch, I ain’t Woody Allen |
Now how you let a nigga run you out your own city? |
(Word) |
How you never catch a win, but you catchin' feelings? |
(Yeah) |
I ain’t tryna have debates, I just bake bitches |
Put a price on your head, send my niggas fishin' |
Boy, you really Craig Mack but you think you Diddy |
Put this fuck nigga in a bag, he the new Missy |
How you let a **** nigga call you nigga? |
(Psh, hahaha) |
Uh |
More money, less fame, push my tracks deep |
These niggas ain’t reviewin' your music, they reviewin' you |
Keep it to yourself, get your money, baby, keep doin' you |
Step out of line and show these Plaxicos what the Ruger do |
Now who is you? |
Double barrel, twin magic |
Hit the W, go through the roof |
Base swell up and go through the coupe |
Pacin' at this nigga house like Peggy finna hula hoop, uh |
Lines around the block feel like Super Tuesday |
Bad leather Biden, baby, we need new things |
Makin' love to your girl, pullin' tracks out the strings |
Pat the weave, I gotta water the soil 'fore I plant the seed |
Lots of information in these bars and schemes |
These niggas basic, all they know is jokes and memes |
Now let’s face it, you hate me because you ain’t me |
You think because I mention forums we the same type of dweeb? |
Fifth up in your face when I catch you off-key |
This is how it taste when you talkin', don’t read |
Nipples on my suit, I’m lookin' for Mr. Freeze, cut the green |
I don’t got fans, I got fiends, what you mean? |
Show up to the studio, I’m dressed like Harley Queen |
I don’t want no picture, give a fuck about your 'zine |
Snitches gettin' Christian, hope you rat up on your team |
Tell me all your secrets, pour out one Lil B |
Tony Braxton pistol had 'em talkin' in his sleep |
These niggas don’t rap, they incriminate on beat |
All I do is spit facts, get money, make heat |
Spit up in her ass, let her know that I’m a freak, don’t speak |