lirik lagu whats ours – joey fatts
[chorus: joey fatts]
hop in that [?] body, swerve
young n*gga straight off the curb
really get to it, boy, f*ck what you heard
[?] on ice
my b*tch [?] splurge
i tell her don’t trip on the price
but she’s still mad, girl, you got your nerve
h*lla boujee but not for the burbs
[?] my hand up her skirt
and we ride with my strap in her purse
[?] taking the charge
they ask how i’m living, i’m living it large, ayy
cut throat, let no one or no thing come between [?]
[verse 1: joey fatts]
[?] ashes on my chrome hearts
my b*tch told me she was leaving but i’m knowing that she never go far
my lil bro got a demon, drive that b*tch like it was a go*kart
all thе sh*t that we achieving, we ain’t got a choicе but to go hard (go hard, n*gga)
self*made, need a real paid b*tch who gon’ suck and f*ck and don’t say sh*t
i brought the homies, girl, who you came with?
in some years from now we gon’ be on the same sh*t
all blue strips in the duffel, money gon’ be coming in double
mac and cheese coming out truffle
just stuck in my rich n*gga ways now
let a b*tch n*gga play now
once we get that location my n*ggas gon’ slide
we treat that boy’s block like a playground
before the pandemic i wasn’t outside
i been getting money since k*town
n*gga get down and you can lay do
wn with the same n*ggas ’cause they stayed down
since we moved packs on greyhounds
i’m way out of these n*ggas range now
and all of my n*ggas is paid now
out [?] grinding myself
hit the bank, deposit $100k, that’s just notch in the belt, fatts
[chorus: joey fatts]
hop in that [?] body, swerve
young n*gga straight off the curb
really get to it, boy, f*ck what you heard
[?] on ice
my b*tch [?] splurge
i tell her don’t trip on the price
but she’s still mad, girl, you got your nerve
h*lla boujee but not for the burbs
[?] my hand up her skirt
and we ride with my strap in her purse
[?] taking the charge
they ask how i’m living, i’m living it large, ayy
cut throat, let no one or no thing come between [?]
[verse 2: dave east]
h*lla boujee, my crib in the burbs
hop in my maybach and swerve
smoking, i’m knocking g herb
[?] n*ggas get on my nerve
y’all n*ggas got some nerve
i don’t drink lean no more
i almost relapsed ’cause i got some syrup
[?] right off the curb
[?] my pocket, tryna make profit
n*ggas is trash, the rest of ’em garbage
[?] stuck on my conscience
i [?] back then pull up with chopsticks
presidential on the rollie
pockets is fat, i be feeling like joey (my n*gga)
see me on instagram but you don’t know me
see you on tv, you n*ggas don’t know me
if i’m in la you know i’m in the [?]
i got the drop that i got from a birdie
i feel like pac, i’ma pop it like [?]
louis my socks, i be coppin’ sh*t early
i’m [?] and i’m thinkin’ ’bout yams
and i [?] on the grams
pull up in pink like i’m cam
used to think what i can keep off these grams
i’m talking staircase, private sales
n*ggas’ll murder you bear face
no mask, we toe tag
know a n*gga did it when he stay away
grimy n*ggas, they be still around
at the funeral and all that
with your name on their ball cap
claiming they love you, it’s all cap
[?] they call, i don’t call back
i feel the [?] through their handshake
no witness [?] can’t trace
they know i’m the artist they can’t trace
[?] look in the mirror and can’t face
[?]
[chorus: joey fatts]
hop in that [?] body, swerve
young n*gga straight off the curb
really get to it, boy, f*ck what you heard
[?] on ice
my b*tch [?] splurge
i tell her don’t trip on the price
but she’s still mad, girl, you got your nerve
h*lla boujee but not for the burbs
[?] my hand up her skirt
and we ride with my strap in her purse
[?] taking the charge
they ask how i’m living, i’m living it large, ayy
cut throat, let no one or no thing come between [?]
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