Letra de Woedy - Rob49

(Feat. Birdman)

Ayy, yeah, I'm good rocking like this shit up

Mm-hmm, got no problem, pussy-ass nigga, mm-mm

Ayy, yeah, you understand me?

This ain't no OTT type shit, nigga, let's get it poppin', nigga

Yeah, I'm slidin' expensive, I'm fuckin' two new groupie bitches

I'm blendin' 'em in (I'm fuckin' two new groupie bitches, yeah)

Shit, my trappin' terrific, I don't care what I do

I'll fly a bitch out to Miami (I'll fly a bitch out to Miami)

"49, why you be flexin' so much, got more chains on than your ancestors?" (Got more chains on than your ancestors)

I done took a thousand losses, no cap

I ain't trippin', I wanna see my mans win (I ain't trippin', I wanna see my mans win)

Oh, you got all the money? I know

You fuckin' all the hoes, uh-huh

Heard you be sellin' dope, uh-uh

I be sellin' pounds, not rounds (Yeah)

Oh, that's bub? This is 'za (Shit)

He want smoke, put him in a blunt (Yeah)

He got good smoke in his lungs (Yeah)

Hunnid round drum on the gun (Brrt)

Niggas mad 'cause I'm richer than 'em (Yeah)

Like a ref', bro too official

Beat the block like Mannie Fresher

Beat the case like Johnnie Cochran

I was low-key tryna minimize it

Rico Story like Speaker Knockerz (Brrt-brrt)

Drive the whip like Ricky Bobby (Grrt-grrt)

Keep it solid, don't tell nobody (Uh-uh)

Boomin' like the candy lady, woadie

I'm a real project baby, woadie

Snappin' like an alligator, woadie

And she gon' give that face up, woadie

Woadie, woadie, woadie, woadie (You know how I'm livin', it ain't no playing with none of you bitch-ass niggas)

Woadie woadie, woadie, woadie (Y'all gon' get border-lined, we on that different side, on gang-gang)

Yeah, baddie or not (Yeah)

If you ain't fuckin' tonight, then I'm kickin' you out (Then I'm kickin' you out)

Yeah, cousin slingin' that Vaseline, treat the burglar house like a gold mine (Yeah)

I ain't even have no house, no cap

I was puttin' my shit at my dog house (Puttin' my shit at my dog house)

And I wasn't trippin', cousin, know it took time to get my own spot (Yeah)

Yeah, I'm slidin' expensive, I'm fuckin' two new groupie bitches

I'm blendin' 'em in (I'm fuckin' two new groupie bitches, you hear?)

Shit, my trappin' terrific, I don't care what I do

I'll fly a bitch out to Miami (I'll fly a bitch out to Miami)

"49, why you be flexin' so much, got more chains on than your ancestors?" (Got more chains on than your ancestors)

I done took a thousand losses, no cap

I ain't trippin', I wanna see my mans win (I ain't trippin', I wanna see my mans win)

Oh, you got all the money? I know (Uh-huh)

You fuckin' all the hoes, uh-huh

Heard you be sellin' dope, uh-uh

I be sellin' pounds, not rounds (Yeah)

Oh, that's bub? This is 'za (Shit)

He want smoke, put him in a blunt (Fuck with us, we on that same shit)

He got good smoke in his lungs (Slime him out on that same ave)

Hunnid round drum on the gun (Yeah)

Twenty hoes like Savage 'nem (Yeah)

Sellin' weed at my mamma crib (Yeah)

Paint her face like super set (Yeah)

How you lovin' this goofy nigga? (Yeah)

You ain't do what I think you did (Yeah)

50 Cent, she fuck many men (Yeah)

Keep my heat, I don't care what weather (Yeah)

Roaches all in my granny crib (Yeah)

I'ma fuck 'cause I ain't her friend (Yeah)

Real money, I pay the bitch (Yeah)

No cap, I'll buy a ho (Yeah)

Fly 'em back on a private jet (Yeah)

Real P like pot and pan (Yeah)

Niggas sweeter than cotton candy (Yeah)

Money taller than K Durant (For sure)

Trap house jumpin' like Ja Morant (Shit)

He been sellin' that Ku Klux Klan (Yeah), and he sellin' that vulture pack

I guess he don't play with Thrax

He fell off, he still ain't back (He still ain't back)

I'ma press this engine 'til it bust, I'm tryna kill this bitch (I'm tryna beat her up, yeah, yeah)

I feel like a six of James Harden, I'm on my Philly shit (Yeah, yeah)

Yeah, I'm slidin' expensive, I'm fuckin' two new groupie bitches

I'm blendin' 'em in (You heard me? Mm-hmm)

Shit, my trappin' too real, I don't care what I do

I'll fly a bitch out to Miami (I'll fly a bitch out to Miami)

"49, why you be flexin' so much, got more chains on than your ancestors?" (Got more chains on than your ancestors)

I done took a thousand losses, no cap

I ain't trippin', I wanna see my mans win (You heard me? I ain't trippin', I wanna see my mans win)

Oh you got all the money? I know (Real rich nigga shit, boy)

You fuckin' all the hoes, uh-huh (Stay in your lane, lil' nigga)

Heard you be sellin' dope, uh-uh (Fuck you talking 'bout, boy?)

I be sellin' pounds, not rounds (Gang)

Oh, that's bub? This is 'za (Shit)

He want smoke, put him in a blunt (Yeah)

He got good smoke in his lungs (Yeah)

Hunnid round drum on the gun (Brrt)

Real rich nigga shit, Stunna Man

That boy, blatt

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