Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song WTF Wrong, artist - Migos. Album song Back to the Bando, Vol. 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.08.2017
Record label: Checkmate
Song language: English
WTF Wrong |
Fuck going on over there man? |
Man I don’t know, we need to see what’s up with his ass |
What the fuck that nigga keep looking at? |
Ay fuck nigga |
Squad |
Migo |
Gang |
What the fuck wrong with this nigga |
Looking at me like he know a nigga |
Acting like he been out in the field with a nigga |
Looking at me real funny like I owe a nigga |
Since you looking I’ma give you something to look at |
It’s a heart attack, 100 racks in my MCM bookbag |
I’m QC but think I signed with double-M-G cause all these Maybachs |
Abandoned houses with the boards on the windows where I trap at |
I got it on my own, I don’t owe nobody shit |
Everybody kick them doors, we all hit them licks |
Robbed the plug for the pounds, it was just me and Vic |
Couple months later in the county, fuck nigga snitched |
Rest in peace my nigga Pistol, Imma take off like a missile |
On the northside with the pistol, you can come get your issue |
Posting Instagram pictures, nigga swear to god I’ll hit ya |
Pull up with extensions, 30 round clips, no witness |
Made it to the top, you a witness |
Pour a 6 in the two liter, got to say it’s killer for my kidneys |
Nigga tell me what I owe, with Migo gang, started on the North |
I remember when I was really kicking down them doors |
And when we had beef I was pulling up to shows |
And when I got locked up stayed ten toes |
Real nigga Willie Mac sent down the road |
My nigga Mac I swear to god he never fold |
Yes I did 5, time to come home |
Julius Caesar, I’m moving back to Rome |
I’m on go with the tools, nigga one to the dome |
In your trap spot, leave your block hot |
Repping real gangster but I know you’re really not |
I’m in the bando nigga, with my wrist in the pot |
Boogers on my watch, yeah my wrist full of snot |
John Wall nigga, I’m a fool with the rock |
LeBron James nigga, know I got to keep the blocks |
Hell naw fuck nigga, you don’t know me |
Since I was 19, chasing all the better Rollies |
24 pounds on the block, no Kobe |
Got some pounds overseas, you pass em like Ginobli |
Hit her first night, now she acting like she know me |
Never ever cuff her, I just pass her to my homie |
Came a long way from the bread and baloney |
Smile on my face but I know it’s really phony |
So I keep a MAC to your extra cheese, macaroni |
Got a 9 on my waist, like a Cowboy, no Tony |
Making plays in the trap like your nigga playing Sony |
Narcotic buffet, I should open up Shoney’s |
All these blue hundreds in my money book bag |
Come here nigga, give you som’n to look at |
No Ross but I pull up Maybach |
I’m a young rich nigga, YRN, hashtag |
What the fuck wrong with this nigga |
Looking at me like he know a nigga |
Acting like he been out in the field with a nigga |
Looking at me real funny like I owe a nigga |
Since you looking I’ma give you something to look at |
It’s a heart attack, 100 racks in my MCM bookbag |
I’m QC but think I signed with double-M-G cause all these Maybachs |
Abandoned houses with the boards on the windows where I trap at |
Ice so cold, catch a heart attack |
Racks staying in my pocket like quarterbacks |
Pussy nigga better get back |
Put a strap to the back of your hat, like a motherfucker started here |
Chopper gone stretch a nigga out like a jumping Jack |
Leave him on the side of the building with the alley cats |
In the bando, got pounds like a hashtag |
Migo my gang, and I bang, I don’t need a flag (Migo Gang, squad) |
Picking niggas off with the rifle, Mango a sniper |
Bullets coming fast like a viper, niggas standing round like a cypher |
Everybody looking at me cause I’m an idol |
I’m married to the money, I didn’t need no recital |
I promise to never go broke, put that on the bible |
If a nigga want a problem, Imma pull up with the dirty rifle |
And a clip longer than the fucking Eifel tower |
Imma have it raining bullets, everybody take a shower |
Money bring power, I don’t give a fuck have a nigga in the dirt |
With a stone on his head with a name carved in it |
With the motherfucking flowers |
Still got two twin choppers like the towers |
Riding with the pocket rocket, no Dwight Howard |
Still got long clips, I’m shooting for an hour |
Man you thinking she is sweet, I’ll leaver her smelling sour |
Feeling like Rick Ross, I pull up in the Maybach |
AR like Lysol, you know Imma spray that |
Money on your head like a motherfucking a hat |
You talking like the radio, nigga we don’t play that |
MCM bag full of hundreds, trapping and capping |
I’m on the stove like Benihanas |
Stay with them bands, these nigga thinking I’m a drummer |
Heavy artillery, niggas thinking I’m Osama |
Leave you with injuries once I hit you with the thunder |
My plug is in Italy getting babies by the bundles |
Usain Bolt, I turn a nigga to a runner |
When I was jumping the fence, I never ever did stumble |
We be stomping niggas out like a frat |
the beat, crazy with the act |
Never been a rat but I stayed in the trap |
All my niggas kicking door for the sack |
Pull up in the trenches don’t fuck with the nats |
Niggas want to kick it like karate Max |
Toe tag, put em in the body bag |
Trapping and dabbing, nigga fuck swag |
The bando got babies like the Rugrats |
Call of Duty with my niggas in the field |
And everybody shot, head shot, shoot to kill |
These niggas rap about it, but we do the shit for real |
Pouring up a whole four out the double seal |
What the fuck wrong with this nigga |
Looking at me like he know a nigga |
Acting like he been out in the field with a nigga |
Looking at me real funny like I owe a nigga |
Since you looking I’ma give you something to look at |
It’s a heart attack, 100 racks in my MCM bookbag |
I’m QC but think I signed with double-M-G cause all these Maybachs |
Abandoned houses with the boards on the windows where I trap at |