| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for?
|
| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for?
|
| I’m a phenomenon, and I gotta bring pain in The Octagon
|
| When I wanna spit game at a soccer mom
|
| I get it quicker than the left lane on the Autobahn, fast
|
| Like Ramadan, had to battle young padawans all the damn day
|
| I’m getting naked and I’m hopping on a wrecking ball
|
| So hot, I got the motherfucker a la flambé
|
| I go to Miley’s house, I see that Miley’s home
|
| I play Miley’s ribcage with my dick, like it’s a Xylie-phone
|
| Yes, that was highly fucked up but my skills are highly honed
|
| And if I was highly hyphy, I might be more widely-known
|
| C’est la vie, better pay my fee
|
| They kick it in Seattle in a Patagonia jacket
|
| They get it in the Bay in a plain white tee
|
| Hey mami! |
| You a P.Y.T
|
| You wanna see me speak, then I go, go, go, go!
|
| Cause, every time I get a beat, I know I gotta beat it up
|
| I bend it then I break it then I chop it then I eat it up
|
| And PETA would never approve of the way
|
| I’ve been treating the music, I bleed it, I bruise it
|
| I kick it to the curb and then I’m sipping on my bourbon
|
| I be freaking it, doing it, keeping it moving
|
| I’m picking apart the muscle when I’m thinking about the hustle
|
| But I’m nice, nice!
|
| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for?
|
| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for?
|
| I jump the freeway median, I’m savage
|
| Cause my mode is that I’m meaner than the average
|
| Like my teacher taught me when I heard the crowd applaud
|
| I thought I was an atheist until I realized I’m a God
|
| It could hurt a bit when I murder shit
|
| In a moment, I’ll be taking off a tourniquet
|
| When I burn them and I hit them in the sternum
|
| I don’t even got to enter, but I’m gonna win the tournament
|
| That’s what I’m all about
|
| I do what I got to do and never gonna pout
|
| And I hope that it would have been the end of it and I’m out
|
| But they never tend to give me the benefit of the doubt
|
| Ever since I was a little kid
|
| I know that I’ve been looking for the hot, hot spotlight
|
| And if you really wonder what I think about the competition
|
| They were not-not-not tight
|
| I’ve been reading my scripture
|
| Every photo bomber wanna be in my picture
|
| And you better bet I’m living every single day
|
| Like it’s the motherfucking Catalina Wine Mixer
|
| Bada bing, bada boom!
|
| When I walk in, I’m the king of the room
|
| And I get it locked in like a king in a tomb
|
| When I spit a toxin and they cough on the fumes
|
| Cause I’m back in the nick of time and attacking the fickle mind
|
| I’m a jackal, I’ll rip his hide, I’ma tackle him, pick a fight
|
| I be Dracula, set to bite in the black of the bitter night
|
| And I’m out, poof
|
| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for?
|
| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for?
|
| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for?
|
| Whoa whoa whoa
|
| What do you take us for? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Whoa Whoa Whoa , by - Watsky. Song from the album All You Can Do, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп