| It’s a brand new day and the birds they chirpin
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| It’s a brand new day plus my Nextel chirpin
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| Ya’ll niggas got work but ya’ll never ever workin
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| Throwin money in the club when you know yo' pockets hurtin
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| It’s a brand new day, got brand new bitches
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| Wrapping up chickens, I’m leaning, I feel like I’m feenin
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| But really I’m trippin
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| Only want balance when I rock the Bentley
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| Gas so loud, y’all niggas can’t hear me
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| Pull out that KLAW, know they gone feel me
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| Whippin that Brittney, that Whitney, That Lidnsey
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| Like I’m a chemist, treat em like dentist
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| You showing your benjis on instagram flexing
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| Maybe tonight, but ain’t got a session
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| I hate to be you cause I know it’s depressing
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| Must think it’s upsetting the way that I’m dressing
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| I walk up in Neiman, I see it I cop it
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| I pull out my pocket, you pull out your wallet
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| Who you impressing, you know you ain’t got it
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| Diggin through pockets, changing the topic
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| Nigga just stop it, it hurt me to see you ain’t got it
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| Make me wanna come out my pocket
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| I’m a get it back cause a nigga got a sack, so my lil' double cup got full of
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| the act
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| Young nigga got bricksquad, we crack
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| If a nigga talkin back, I’m aimin the strap
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| It’s a brand new day, in a brand new whip, and a brand new 45 sittin in my lap
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| Aye hold up Takeoff, you see that nigga
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| It’s a brand new nigga on the block, hit his ass with a brand new Glock
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| Knock em off the block like he playing hopscotch
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| My niggas is crazy, we keep the new babies
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| We ride in Mercedes keep crack like the 80s
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| They cook it, they whippin, they slavin
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| I 'round the city screaming «Mama we made it»
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| I’m busting them bricks out the wrapper
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| Too hot for a trapper, so now I’m a rapper
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| My pot too big, got too much water, so I skrt-skrt with a broke paddle
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| I see you running with the sack,
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| Quavo the linebacker so I had to make the tackle
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| Got Migos in Mexico right now, putting 50 bricks on a horse sadle
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| I’m servin them patients, my money is ancient,
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| My diamonds are lookin like I bought a ice glacier
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| Addicted to paper, I movin to Cali, I roll me a blunt and I go watch the Lakers
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| So much gas you’ll need a ventilator, my house so big got marijuana acres
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| Pots in the pan, Quavo the baker, money in the jar, look like a saltshaker. |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Chirpin , by - Migos. Song from the album Young Rich N*ggas, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп