Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Zambamafoo, artist - Lil Uzi Vert. Date of issue: 30.07.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Zambamafoo |
| Chopper on me and you know that bitch folded |
| Pistol on me and you know that bitch loaded |
| Living my life just like everything golden |
| When I say that, I’m talking 'bout the Rollie |
| Nigga talk shit, put a hole in him slowly |
| Then I bag his bitch, fuck on that bitch slowly |
| Said you getting money, then you gotta show me |
| Know I’m a Vlone thug, bitch, I’m so lonely |
| Check it out, diamonds shine in the dark |
| Water ring look like Voss |
| Fuck her once, break her heart |
| Skate on that girl like my name Tony Hawk |
| Had the swag from the start, had the shit in my car |
| Duck, I aim with the Moss' |
| Berg, so cold that my watch made me cough |
| I ain’t never took a loss, keep it a hundred, of course |
| I pulled out that Lamb, no Honda Accord |
| I’ll fuck your bitch and then I’ll hit record |
| I took the Xan and then I’ll hit the snore |
| Walk on the dead, bitch, I trip on the corpse |
| Counting the bands, but y’all mentioning Forbes |
| It felt like just yesterday, I was poor |
| Wake up, I’m swagging in Christian Dior |
| I’m dressing like I was Zoboomafoo |
| Got lions and snakes on my Gucci shoes |
| Poured up a deuce, I rolled up a blunt or two |
| Your bitch wanna fuck when she come through |
| Sensei busting up bricks, I do kung-fu |
| Good aim when shooting, I’m hunting you |
| Caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo |
| All black Ghost pull up, peek-a-boo |
| I’m smoking that platinum cookies, that’s the best |
| I got the juice, I pour up that Hitech |
| Four pockets full, looking like thigh pads |
| Talking that gangsta shit, no, you ain’t 'bout that Hoodrich |
| I keep the strap in my Louie bag |
| Fuck on your bitch, give her back, I’m through with that |
| Filthy rich like the sewer, don’t hang with no rats |
| Designer my fashion, I’m still sipping Act |
| I got them cookies, they fresh out the oven |
| Juuging and packing, I’m making shit double |
| Four in the 20, I like my shit muddy |
| Fuck on that hoe, then I call up her buddy |
| Rich nigga status, I keep the strap on me |
| My red bottoms made from the hair of a pony |
| My young niggas murking, they scared to be opponents |
| Talking that fuck shit, we pulling right up on it |
| That pint don’t come sealed, nigga, I don’t want it |
| I trap out the bando, nigga, like it’s haunted |
| HoodWolf, leave me with the dragon in the dungeon |
| I still serve a nigga a bale of the onions |
| Better go ask your bitch, I’ve been getting money |
| Real Candler Road nigga, you can serve |
| I gotta meet the plug way out in Conyers |
| I got the paper like folder dividers |
| Buy the work, no cosigners |
| Real street nigga, I ain’t taking no dummies |
| Can’t get it the way we trying, nigga, you’ll die |
| I can seen a nigga acting like me, stop lying |
| I’m Pablo the Plug, you ain’t sold a dime |
| I’m in the concrete jungle with the lions |
| I need the pints, nigga, I don’t buy lines |
| When I get bricks, yeah, I’m paying for mine |
| 360 ring, why the fuck would I sign? |
| I’m dressing like I was Zoboomafoo |
| Got lions and snakes on my Gucci shoes |
| Poured up a deuce, I rolled up a blunt or two |
| Your bitch wanna fuck when she come through |
| Sensei busting up bricks, I do kung-fu |
| Good aim when shooting, I’m hunting you |
| Caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo |
| All black Ghost pull up, peek-a-boo |
| I’m smoking that platinum cookies, that’s the best |
| I got the juice, I pour up that Hitech |
| Four pockets full, looking like thigh pads |
| Talking that gangsta shit, no, you ain’t 'bout that Hoodrich |
| I keep the strap in my Louie bag |
| Fuck on your bitch, give her back, I’m through with that |
| Filthy rich like the sewer, don’t hang with no rats |
| Designer my fashion, I’m still sipping Act |