lirik lagu call my bluff – doe boy
[intro]
doe beeski
uh, yeah, uh, uh, uh (the f*ckin’ boss when it come to this bird sh*t, n*gga)
mmm, mmm, hmm (ain’t none of this sh*t for entertainment, you get what i’m sayin’?)
(big oh really)
uh (call my bluff, n*gga, you think i’m fakin’, oh, really?)
huh (let’s do it)
[chorus]
really a player, ain’t mad at no n*gga that hit my ho (that’s her fault)
he ain’t no player, can’t take it, a n*gga come hit his, though (that’s her loss)
p*ssy n*gga, you ain’t no gangster, you ain’t kick in no door (nosirski)
you ain’t never ran from 12, hit the cut, and hid your pole (nosirski, oh, really?)
n*gga, i was probably like twelve, n*gga, doe b been on knowles (knowles ave)
plannin’ on sendin’ them sh*lls, n*gga, i’ll forget my goals, uh (vrrr)
all of my hoes wear chanel, got a bad b*tch in my rolls (come here, baby)
all them flowers i post, but the opps act like they ain’t get my lo’, huh (that’s crazy)
[verse]
i’ll send that b*tch to you personally, make sure you get my lo’, huh (you p*ssy, n*gga)
snuck in my pole, you try me on stage, i end my show (vrrr)
gang ‘nem came gen5, but we still tote gen4s (gang, gang)
can’t even choose what ho i want, f*ck it, go get both, huh (come here)
hmm, go get it (both of y’all)
hmm, go get it (both of y’all)
run up on doe, on baby and kim, n*gga gon’ get smoked, uh (you dig that)
peep through the hole, who at the door? mmm (who that? huh?)
who the f*ck that at my door? ring, let that b*tch go, vrrr (vrrr, baow, baow, baow, think i’m playin’?)
vrrr (b*tch, huh? stop playin’)
vrrr (baow, baow, baow, b*tch, big oh really, big doe beeski)
brrr (don’t forget the ‘ski, oh, really?)
brr*brr*brr
opps say i’m a ho, but truth be told, they really know (yeah)
doe b really go, he really r*t*rded, he really slow (stupid)
really him, not them, that’s what i tote my bl!cky for
beezy, i come trim like i’m tryna edit a video
woo, woo, woo (oh, really? pop it, oh, really? pop this)
ah, let’s roll (let’s do it)
you ain’t gon’ let it blow? f*ck you tuck that tooly for? (fool)
you’ll die about this tennis rope, what the f*ck you lookin’ for? (stupid)
hop out, rick owens on my feet, rick owens hoodie on (ricky)
slide in ‘cat, b*tch, we got more tracks than a studio (skrrt, oh, really?)
hmm, pop it (pop it), pop it (pop it), pop it (let’s go), pop it (you dig?)
[chorus]
really a player, ain’t mad at no n*gga that hit my ho (that’s her fault)
he ain’t no player, can’t take it, a n*gga come hit his, though (that’s her loss)
p*ssy n*gga, you ain’t no gangster, you ain’t kick in no door (nosirski)
you ain’t never ran from 12, hit the cut, and hid your pole (nosirski, oh, really?)
n*gga, i was probably like twelve, n*gga, doe b been on knowles (knowles ave)
plannin’ on sendin’ them sh*lls, n*gga, i’ll forget my goals, uh (vrrr)
all of my hoes wear chanel, got a bad b*tch in my rolls (come here, baby)
all them flowers i post, but the opps act like they ain’t get my lo’, huh (that’s crazy)
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