Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 3 Headed Goat, artist - Lil Durk. Date of issue: 12.08.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
3 Headed Goat |
| These ain’t no Guess jeans |
| I dropped out of school, I’m still good at math, but, nigga, don’t test me |
| I played to the left, they went to the right, they tried to finesse me |
| Still riding 'round with that blicky, I hope they don’t catch me |
| Police had raided our spot, so we went to the next street |
| Play like I’m dumb, as soon as it pop, I’m goin' retarded |
| He say I’m hard and he say I’m garbage, I’m rich regardless |
| We in Miami in the middle of the winter, and we on them jet skis |
| If we in Atlanta, I’m runnin' the 'Cat and I’m workin' the red key |
| I cannot mention my homies inside of my song 'cause I know they be trappin' a |
| lot |
| I can’t keep takin' these pills, when I’m in the trenches, they say I be |
| cappin' a lot |
| I know a nigga who say he got rich off the dope, but I know he be actin' a lot |
| I know some niggas who said that they took down the city, but niggas be lackin' |
| a lot |
| Yeah |
| That shit was awful, nigga had that dog food |
| That day they shot you, I slid on a Mongoose |
| You cannot come back around me, you turned your back on me, I cannot forget |
| The police was lyin', they say that they caught you, but nigga, they made you |
| admit |
| Your name was found, you put in that work, they took your stick, you a bitch |
| Fuck my opps, they be on my dick, they all be mad we rich (Turn up) |
| Only twenty-five, livin' like a boss, ridin' 'round with a chauffeur |
| I don’t sell drugs, still be paranoid, keep lookin' over my shoulder |
| Niggas lyin' like I’m stealin' swag, boy, that’s my shit like I wrote it |
| Uh |
| These rappers really nice as hell |
| I’m a different nigga when I’m pissed off |
| Man, he say he gon' press up on who? |
| I’ma get the steel like I’m Chris Paul |
| Back to back suburbans, I’m a big dawg |
| I was in the slums servin' Fentanyl |
| Zombieland, junkies havin' withdrawals |
| I been gettin' to it, lotta missed calls |
| Turn it off, what the fuck is he talking 'bout? |
| I should slap you for sayin' he hot as me |
| I don’t know who could fuck with me honestly |
| They know I’m the man, so they watchin' me |
| Different color bands like Monopoly |
| Man, he must not be usin' his head |
| If he thinkin' I don’t keep a Glock with me |
| That’s like suicide if you play with us |
| Got a better chance at the lottery |
| Call an ambulance when that chopper sweep |
| Make the crowd dance, choreography |
| Once I got a plan, ain’t no stoppin' me |
| Three-car garage, million-dollar crib |
| With a foreign bitch ridin' on top of me |
| Lot of people done said I wouldn’t be shit |
| Well, I guess they owe me an apology |
| These ain’t no Guess jeans |
| I dropped out of school, I’m still good at math, but, nigga, don’t test me |
| I played to the left, they went to the right, they tried to finesse me |
| Still riding 'round with that blicky, I hope they don’t catch me |
| Police had raided our spot, so we went to the next street |
| Play like I’m dumb, as soon as it pop, I’m goin' retarded |
| He say I’m hard and he say I’m garbage, I’m rich regardless |
| We in Miami in the middle of the winter, and we on them jet skis |
| If we in Atlanta, I’m runnin' the 'Cat and I’m workin' the red key |