They probably think this is some sweet shit, but I pull up on street shit (Facts)
All my teachers said I wouldn't be shit, go tell all them to eat dick (Eat it up)
Come out his face we gon spin like a remix, you know I be with demons (Facts)
I take a 30 and it have me dreaming go up like the ceiling (Pour up)
They know I'm a boss rick ross, that Briscoe nigga steady scheming
I get the cake like this shit my birthday the baddies stay eating (Eat it up)
No we can't call this shit even who the f*ck you think I am steven (F*ck you think I am)
I'm praying to God you don't give me a reason we gon send em to Jesus (R.I.P)
Blocking bad vibes like I'm playing defense, pour up for the treatment (Act)
I don't play ball but I ball every season, might roll up in Neiman (Ball)
I hit your bitch then I'm leaving, I'm on the loot
Wait
Walk through your strip with 10 bands on my shoes
Jogging in Dior runners with my crew
Drove to the spot but my diamonds they flew
Jump out the face and I jump out the roof
Jump out the pussy then jump in the booth
Run to the bag and I skip to the loot (Racks, racks)
All black on black back to back in them coupes (Facts)
I get them stacks rack to rack no dispute
Ima real nigga they gotta salute
I got the glizzy if ima commute
That nigga pull up on we leave him on route
These niggas bitches, straight prostitute (Bitch)
Talk on the gram when we sliding they mute
You think this shit sweet you got it confused (Pussy)
They probably think this is some sweet shit, but I pull up on street shit
All my teachers said I wouldn't be shit, go tell all them to eat dick (Eat it up)
Come out his face we gon spin like a remix, you know I be with demons
I take a 30 and it have me dreaming go up like the ceiling (Pour up)
They know I'm a boss rick ross, that Briscoe nigga steady scheming
I get the cake like this shit my birthday the baddies stay eating (Eat it up)
No we can't call this shit even who the f*ck you think I am steven (F*ck you think I am)
I'm praying to God you don't give me a reason we gon send em to Jesus (R.I.P)
Brissp Beezy - Street Shit Lyrics
Brissp Beezy - Street Shit Lyrics
Official
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English
They probably think this is some sweet shit, but I pull up on street shit (Facts)
All my teachers said I wouldn't be shit, go tell all them to eat dick (Eat it up)
Come out his face we gon spin like a remix, you know I be with demons (Facts)
I take a 30 and it have me dreaming go up like the ceiling (Pour up)
They know I'm a boss rick ross, that Briscoe nigga steady scheming
I get the cake like this shit my birthday the baddies stay eating (Eat it up)
No we can't call this shit even who the f*ck you think I am steven (F*ck you think I am)
I'm praying to God you don't give me a reason we gon send em to Jesus (R.I.P)
Blocking bad vibes like I'm playing defense, pour up for the treatment (Act)
I don't play ball but I ball every season, might roll up in Neiman (Ball)
I hit your bitch then I'm leaving, I'm on the loot
Wait
Walk through your strip with 10 bands on my shoes
Jogging in Dior runners with my crew
Drove to the spot but my diamonds they flew
Jump out the face and I jump out the roof
Jump out the pussy then jump in the booth
Run to the bag and I skip to the loot (Racks, racks)
All black on black back to back in them coupes (Facts)
I get them stacks rack to rack no dispute
Ima real nigga they gotta salute
I got the glizzy if ima commute
That nigga pull up on we leave him on route
These niggas bitches, straight prostitute (Bitch)
Talk on the gram when we sliding they mute
You think this shit sweet you got it confused (Pussy)
They probably think this is some sweet shit, but I pull up on street shit
All my teachers said I wouldn't be shit, go tell all them to eat dick (Eat it up)
Come out his face we gon spin like a remix, you know I be with demons
I take a 30 and it have me dreaming go up like the ceiling (Pour up)
They know I'm a boss rick ross, that Briscoe nigga steady scheming
I get the cake like this shit my birthday the baddies stay eating (Eat it up)
No we can't call this shit even who the f*ck you think I am steven (F*ck you think I am)
I'm praying to God you don't give me a reason we gon send em to Jesus (R.I.P)
All my teachers said I wouldn't be shit, go tell all them to eat dick (Eat it up)
Come out his face we gon spin like a remix, you know I be with demons (Facts)
I take a 30 and it have me dreaming go up like the ceiling (Pour up)
They know I'm a boss rick ross, that Briscoe nigga steady scheming
I get the cake like this shit my birthday the baddies stay eating (Eat it up)
No we can't call this shit even who the f*ck you think I am steven (F*ck you think I am)
I'm praying to God you don't give me a reason we gon send em to Jesus (R.I.P)
Blocking bad vibes like I'm playing defense, pour up for the treatment (Act)
I don't play ball but I ball every season, might roll up in Neiman (Ball)
I hit your bitch then I'm leaving, I'm on the loot
Wait
Walk through your strip with 10 bands on my shoes
Jogging in Dior runners with my crew
Drove to the spot but my diamonds they flew
Jump out the face and I jump out the roof
Jump out the pussy then jump in the booth
Run to the bag and I skip to the loot (Racks, racks)
All black on black back to back in them coupes (Facts)
I get them stacks rack to rack no dispute
Ima real nigga they gotta salute
I got the glizzy if ima commute
That nigga pull up on we leave him on route
These niggas bitches, straight prostitute (Bitch)
Talk on the gram when we sliding they mute
You think this shit sweet you got it confused (Pussy)
They probably think this is some sweet shit, but I pull up on street shit
All my teachers said I wouldn't be shit, go tell all them to eat dick (Eat it up)
Come out his face we gon spin like a remix, you know I be with demons
I take a 30 and it have me dreaming go up like the ceiling (Pour up)
They know I'm a boss rick ross, that Briscoe nigga steady scheming
I get the cake like this shit my birthday the baddies stay eating (Eat it up)
No we can't call this shit even who the f*ck you think I am steven (F*ck you think I am)
I'm praying to God you don't give me a reason we gon send em to Jesus (R.I.P)
Writer: Christian Brown
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid