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Yikes
Lady London
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Lyrics
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I been gone for a minute
Niggas think I'm on cause I'm winning
I ain't got a deal but I'm still up in the field,
I ain't even got a song but I'm killing
(woah)
nigga, throw a bag at me
smacked your bitch & you mad at me
i'm the queen of that toxic-ness
If I block your shit, you better cash app me
Yikes! That's what you like?
that's who you with?
that's who you wifed?
that's yo' bitch?
that's yo' life?
that's yo' shit!
what's yo' type?
Nigga in Saint Laurent wit a hundred, cash
your baby mom looks like Moneybagg
And I'm real as hell, call the NFL
how this nigga still be running back.
look,
pon di road dem'
an she meet ah dem broke mon
cho mon, it gah fuck up she mood
how you meet ah broke mon, let him buss up in you?
(mmm)
bed rock
bed rock
(woy)
rude boy, em ah mek her bed drop
how ya still so bright?
dem ah haffi rest up
an err oxtail dry like she pickney headtop
Rich boy on Amalfi coast,
sport Big Dior, call em Poppi Smoke
nigga 6'4"
move big raw,
and he still call for that sloppy throat
i've been a boss, all of my days
Cross all of my A's
Ex nigga and his new bitch
Still stalking all on my page, like
Damn boy you still making shit?
You got a whole girl
What you hate the bitch?
Shit, gotta be
When she ride the D
You give the silent treatment like you take the fifth,
I think of a hundred rendition of ways
To run up to hundreds of digits a day
Fuck if you wanna, cause bitch is you gonna?
You really be fronting the shit on your page
You fucking a ball player,
never would know
sit at his game in the twenty fifth row
and you ain't ashamed cause you did it before
cause you know you a lame and you really a hoe
you in the nose bleeds, got a fucked up seat
toes freezing, got fucked up feets
for no reason got fucked up teeth,
like oh Jesus, you fucked up CHIEF
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