lirik lagu john tucker – bg illie
[intro]
(ayy, get that bag, toretto)
[chorus]
i got these b*tches on me like i’m john
i’m kicking sh*t and my pockets on pun
no derrick rose when i ball on these n*ggas
ain’t no number four, i’m forever the one
feeling like q*dog, they know i’m a don
we see the opps, usain bolt, they gon’ run
we don’t need a tray ’cause my n*ggas gon’ eat
we prepare for this life, we already ate lunch
i might just, um, you saying too much
call my hitter roy jones, he come in the clutch
you can keep your pack, p*ssy, ‘fore i get you touched
(don’t make a sound ’cause they listening to us)
been gone for a while, i’ll drop the whole month
i’m in la kicking sh*t with the ballers
arkansas n*gga, feel like malik monk
he smoking that sh*t, i can tell by the funk
[verse]
the only thing i don’t like ’bout the rap game
these n*ggas be acting like they don’t know illie
they be throwing rumors out like i ain’t f*cking they favorite pop star
but i ain’t talking ’bout billie
like, b*tch, is you silly? i’m curious
i drive this b*tch fast and i’m furious
you seen that rap list, are you hearing this?
they say you ain’t make it, delirious
is it because i don’t even f*ck with these n*ggas?
i ain’t friendly with n*ggas? nah, yeah
y’all call any n*gga with money real
and bumping to unless they fall, yeah
and i keep that sh*t player
and i might sell some white, call it leia
and i think i’m the last n*gga rare
let’s keep it one hundred, you can’t f*ck with me, period
i’m not buying no more chains unless i spend thirty
that’s a plus ’cause i’m tryna spend curry
and my mama just text me, she worried
not ’bout me, she talking ’bout you lil’ birdies
i might give him nine shots like he curtis
here’s a message, this sh*t getting urgent
he say he caught bodies, we know he a virgin
we know that he capping, he lie, he tell stories
[chorus]
i got these b*tches on me like i’m john
i’m kicking sh*t and my pockets on pun
no derrick rose when i ball on these n*ggas
ain’t no number four, i’m forever the one
feeling like q*dog, they know i’m a don
we see the opps, usain bolt, they gon’ run
we don’t need a tray ’cause my n*ggas gon’ eat
we prepare for this life, we already ate lunch
i might just, um, you saying too much
call my hitter roy jones, he come in the clutch
you can keep your pack, p*ssy, ‘fore i get you touched
(don’t make a sound ’cause they listening to us)
been gone for a while, i’ll drop the whole month
i’m in la kicking sh*t with the ballers
arkansas n*gga, feel like malik monk
he smoking that sh*t, i can tell by the funk
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