Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Don't Miss , by - Rylo Rodriguez. Release date: 26.11.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Don't Miss |
| G way, I like to flex with hoes |
| If we run out of gas, go electric mode |
| The head wasn’t shit, had me pissed cammode |
| No trouble with hits, they remixed the bowl |
| Tryna nut on her face, I won’t miss your nose |
| She was gon' French, but I choked her, I ain’t kissin' a ho |
| Whole team balling, we just gon' pick and roll |
| And we carrying the guns and I missed the show |
| Fuck these couches and tables, we stand on 'em |
| Your brother look bad, put your mans on |
| A wide body, she got a tan on |
| Fucked a booster, I slept with my pants on |
| What the hell I look like doing a diss song? |
| I’m tryna make a don’t miss song |
| (Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew) |
| I’m tryna make a don’t miss song |
| Said trapping is dead, bring bags to the funeral |
| I don’t even got a bed don’t care 'bout no rumors (room) |
| You don’t hit nothin', no sweat, as long as you’re shooting |
| I just want the bread, you can keep the communion |
| I’m with bae in the 'Vette, my old ho got a shit face |
| My hood on my trunk, they decided to switch places |
| I watched some niggas go to jail and they turning snakes |
| Hood hot laws out, you tell me which way |
| I got some homies in jail |
| We sharpen our knives, that turn to a blick, yeah |
| I’m going up elevators, jumped off and went to the stairs, I thought about Mitch |
| A lot of these niggas, they hoes and bitches, so we on they wig like spritz |
| Cranberry fruit cup, hot Cheetos, granny used to beat my ass with a switch |
| Your nigga a rat and I don’t need to talk about it |
| That boy got caught and agreed to talk about it |
| Pistol, no, I cannot leave the house without it |
| MoMa, my shirt and my jeans was Off-Whited |
| I got some Wock in my pores |
| If you need it to be cleaned, do your chores |
| I watched niggas go marry the game |
| They threw they controllers when they got divorced |
| Bought a Cartier ring, I can’t get divorced |
| Fell in love with Dior, would’ve thought I’m endorsed |
| All that dirty money, I’m not tryna do chores |
| Shop when I land, show the mall no remorse |
| Fly guy with bands, I could fuck any whore |
| Get sloppy top then don’t want her no more |
| Fuck all the opps, let’s go take 'em to war |
| Running with sticks, that bitch came with a sword |
| The game feeling strange, lames in it for fame |
| They’re goin' insane for a lil' piece of change |
| I got that bitch brain but didn’t get her name |
| I kicked that bitch out, you made her your main |
| I figured it out, we just not the same |
| Used to be broke, look what I became |
| I could buy a car with each of my chains |
| Icy lil' nigga, gotta keep my flame |
| Bustdown Thotiana, no, I do not do plain |
| Picture perfect, I ain’t even need a frame |
| When I was broke, I was the only nigga I could blame |
| Now I’m balling hard throwings bows in the paint |
| All these blue hundred make a broke ho faint |
| Pull up back-to-back coupe, me and gang switching lanes |
| Put the law on a chase, so much guns to explain |
| Get an opp out the way, all my shooters got aim |
| G way, I like to flex with hoes |
| If we run out of gas, go electric mode |
| The head wasn’t shit had me pissed cammode |
| No trouble with hits, they remixed the bowl |
| Tryna nut on her face, I won’t miss your nose |
| She was gon' French, but I choked her, I ain’t kissin' a ho |
| Whole team balling, we just gon' pick and roll |
| And we carrying the guns and I missed the show |
| Fuck these couches and tables, we stand on 'em |
| Your brother look bad, put your mans on |
| A wide body, she got a tan on |
| Fucked a booster, I slept with my pants on |
| What the hell I look like doing a diss song? |
| I’m tryna make a don’t miss song |
| (Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew) |
| I’m tryna make a don’t miss song |