Lyrics Monday to Sunday - Pooh Shiesty, BIG30, Lil Baby

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)