Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song WOP WOP , by - Kooda BRelease date: 17.01.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
WOP WOP |
| Ever since I got the bag, I see them in they feelings |
| I’ma keep on stacking paper 'til this shit up to the ceiling |
| Balling on you haters, shit, I’m feeling like I’m Pippen |
| I’ma fuck ya bitch tonight |
| God-given wop wop, right up in the drop-top |
| I got my cocked Glock, quick to make it hot, hot |
| We send them shots, shots, somebody gettin' pop, popped |
| I cannot stop running to the guap, opp |
| Ever since I got the bag, I see them in they feelings |
| I’ma keep on stacking paper 'til this shit up to the ceiling |
| Balling on you haters, shit, I’m feeling like I’m Pippen |
| I’ma fuck ya bitch tonight |
| God-given wop wop, right up in the drop-top |
| I got my cocked Glock, quick to make it hot, hot |
| We send them shots, shots, somebody gettin' pop, popped |
| I cannot stop running to the guap, opp |
| If you ain’t talking guap shit, get up out my face |
| Ran into a opp thot, love get a taste |
| I told her, «Watch who you texting 'fore you die today» |
| You see, we got it on our own, nobody paved the way |
| Pretty little thot, thot, fuck her in my high tops |
| Gorilla glue up in this blunt, we got hotbox |
| Trey pound on my waist, I do not box |
| For that bag, we on yo' ass, we will not stop |
| Bing, blaow, man down |
| Ambulance out when Kooda come around |
| Bing, blaow, man down |
| Ambulance out when Kooda come around |
| Ever since I got the bag, I see them in they feelings |
| I’ma keep on stacking paper 'til this shit up to the ceiling |
| Balling on you haters, shit, I’m feeling like I’m Pippen |
| I’ma fuck ya bitch tonight |
| God-given wop wop, right up in the drop-top |
| I got my cocked Glock, quick to make it hot, hot |
| We send them shots, shots, somebody gettin' pop, popped |
| I cannot stop running to the guap, opp |
| Ever since I got the bag, I see them in they feelings |
| I’ma keep on stacking paper 'til this shit up to the ceiling |
| Balling on you haters, shit, I’m feeling like I’m Pippen |
| I’ma fuck ya bitch tonight |
| God-given wop wop, right up in the drop-top |
| I got my cocked Glock, quick to make it hot, hot |
| We send them shots, shots, somebody gettin' pop, popped |
| I cannot stop running to the guap, opp |