Lyrics Salty - Saint, Dai Burger

Salty

This must be Saint
Dai Burger
Saint
We back at it
What up?
I’m too gangster
I’m too bossy
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me
I got the recipe
You too salty
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me
I tell her
Back, back, back, back up off me
Back, back, back, back up
I got that recipe
You too salty
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me
My name Burger D
I know you heard of me
If a bitch try to fight, she’d be in surgery
It’s an emergency
I need currency
See, the money maker hate her, burn, third degree
I just came off tour I got jet lag (Woo!)
Louis luggage, got a few bags (Carry that?)
They tryna figure who I’m better than (Never)
Migraines, I need exederin
All these bum bitches birds, call 'em pelicans
I just got a tan, more melanin
In my six inch heels I moon walk on them
Shit, I’ma let the money talk to 'em (Yeah!)
I’m too gangster
I’m too bossy
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me (Told her back up off me!)
I got the recipe
You too salty
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me (You gotta go!)
I tell her
Back, back, back, back up off me (Bye!)
Back, back, back, back up
I got that recipe
You too salty
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me
I got the juice, got the sauce, keep it slippery
Eat it up, when you lick it off, leave it glittery
If we ain’t talking cheddar then there’s a bad connection
And you’re looking unfamiliar to my recollection
Oh, you feelin' salty?
Sorry, don’t blame ya
Overpay to hit the stage just to entertain ya
Doin' shows everywhere, crossed a couple borderlines
Worry about tours, get the fuck up off of mine
I’m so good up, good up, at my hood up, hood up
In the kitchen mixin' with the spoon that’s what up, what up
Put ya foot up, foot up and wind it down, drill sergeant
Salty 'cause I’m in my own lane, no margins
I’m too gangster
I’m too bossy
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me
I got the recipe
You too salty
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me
I tell her
Back, back, back, back up off me
Back, back, back, back up
I got that recipe
You too salty
I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me
How does she moon walk in six inch heels?
How does she moon walk in six inch heels?
She be cookin', she got skills
She be cookin', pay them bills
It’s a snack, it’s an entrée, it’s a whole damn meal