Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Monday to Sunday, artist - Pooh Shiesty. Date of issue: 25.06.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Monday to Sunday |
| Eyes in my rearview mirror, I’m on point, won’t go for nothin' |
| Got twenty shots left up in the K, thought I shot the whole hundred |
| Pay my ties at church from hustlin', even the pastor know we thuggin' (Amen) |
| My lil' cousin shot my brother, my brother got back, don’t fuck with my cousin |
| We got Glocks from seventeen, shoot .33, we ain’t goin' for nothin' (Nothin') |
| He tried do what I do and I do what I do, he really my baby boy |
| Kel Tec 223 with a hundred round drum, that’s probably my favorite gun |
| Everybody know how it go, seen bro on bro, on God, we ain’t shootin' no ones |
| Baby got mills, I come through, foreign |
| Sell these bands if it ain’t no tourin' |
| Fresh white tee and some Off White Jordans |
| Trackhawk too loud, it don’t need no horn |
| Keep my weed, I need my drugs |
| Got two shells, gotta feed my sons |
| Soon as my feet hear the screech I run |
| Run through weed every week, buy tons |
| Nigga, I’ma speak, ain’t bite my tongue |
| Only one that’s having that shit where I’m from |
| Been running shit ever since I was young |
| Fuck all my teachers, said I wouldn’t be nothin' |
| I turn Sonic for money, in the trap Monday to Sunday |
| Clientele steady pumpin', Draco shells, they’re what we dumpin' (Brrt) |
| I’m familiar with junkies, see my face and they come runnin' (Yo) |
| Two Instagram hoes from Compton, I snatched 'em up out my comments (Let's go) |
| Them regular clips ain’t enough (Nope), if you tote a Glock, put a drum in it |
| (Brrt) |
| Tryna catch up to me? |
| There’s gon' be a whole lotta running (Runnin') |
| Eyes in my rearview mirror, I’m on point, won’t go for nothin' |
| Got twenty shots left up in the K, thought I shot the whole hundred |
| Draco knocked a chunk up out his back like he working for Apple |
| Shie just poured a six up in the Sprite, I pour eight in the Snapple |
| If I catch this opp all by myself, I’ma spray him without 'em |
| Smoke back to back in the Audi, we got the whole party cloudin' |
| Rocked his ass to sleep, we slimed him out after we took him in |
| He was clubbin' with the other side, we had to cook his ass |
| We just shook they block in but we had Texas tag |
| Dropped his ass then hit his nigga up so we burnt up the Jag |
| And my hood treat me like Baby, four packs of Fentanyl on me |
| Hate to serve your little old lady but granny keep callin' me |
| Any chopper hit, 'bout eighty ten shot for who followin' me |
| And these skreets is eat or get ate, ain’t no niggas swallowin' me (Brr) |
| I turn Sonic for money, in the trap Monday to Sunday |
| Clientele steady pumpin', Draco shells, they’re what we dumpin' (Brrt) |
| I’m familiar with junkies, see my face and they come runnin' (Yo) |
| Two Instagram hoes from Compton, I snatched 'em up out my comments (Let's go) |
| Them regular clips ain’t enough (Nope), if you tote a Glock, put a drum in it |
| (Brrt) |
| Tryna catch up to me? |
| There’s gon' be a whole lotta running (Runnin') |
| Eyes in my rearview mirror, I’m on point, won’t go for nothin' |
| Got twenty shots left up in the K, thought I shot the whole hundred |
| See something, I’ve got to have it, tuck your chain before I grab it |
| (Ayy, tuck your chain, brrt) |
| Spin the block in the caddy, these F&N's black and plastic (Brrt) |
| Ms Gladys raised a savage, they said I shoot like my daddy (My daddy) |
| Spent thirty-eight racks to fix my smile Kardashian |
| Ayy, thirty-eight racks to fix my grill, fifteen, eighty or two (Bling) |
| Bitch talking 'bout us settling down but I’m fuckin' her crew (She know it) |
| 3754, pockets full, choppers and residue (Brrt) |
| We certified like the truth, bitch, it’s 30, Baby and Pooh (Brrt) |