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iamphycojack - Press Lyrics



iamphycojack - Press Lyrics
Official




Monsta's gon' tear it up
Big Phyco
Woo
Yeah
Bitches be pressed
You bitches be pressed
Woo
Yeah
Yeah
Woo
B-Bitches be pressed
They knowin' who run it, real bitch I'm the best
Who the f*ck he gon' check?
He be talking that shit, but not makin a threat
I'm that bitch and he's less
Niggas be mad when they see jackson step in the spot
Say that you 'bout it, we know that you not
I'ma pull up on bitches just give me the drop
Ride in a foreign, im fresh off the yacht
B-B-Bitches in my business, they gon get got
Hoes poppin' shit like they hot but they not
Just iced out the wrist, the Patek, just watch
Niggas be flexing, don't know what you got
Jackson done had got the game in a knot
F*ck on yo nigga, I got him on lock
We gon bang bang like I'm choppin' wit chops
Cuban link chain, I'm in love with the rocks
Ho, you said you gon' snatch it, bitch, you got me chopped
They throwin' shade 'cause the light at the top
Tell that bitch to pull up, as soon as her flight drops
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Jackson don't need more press
Get 'em all, put them hoes to rest
Walk in, bulletproof vest
Please tell me who he gon' check
Murder scene, Jackson made a mess
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Ding dong
Must be that shein that I ordered
And a new chain for my daughter
You know a bad bitch gon' spoil her
Got one in New York, need one in Aurora
New Lamborghini cost a quarter
My money still blue like weave
Coochie still wet like Florida
Everyone drop to the floor
He was talkin' but not anymore
DRAC to his face like contour
This choppa' come straight from Dior
Done with the talkin', we shootin' a pilot
Ask anybody, they know I'm about it
Hashtag whip that ho' ass
F*ck around, it turns out that my talent
I come in this bitch and I'm strapped up and ready
Ride on that dick like I'm Phyco Andretti
F*ck at your crib, put that dick in my belly
He wanted room service, told him get a 'Telly
Bitch I'm a weeb and a freak (and a freak)
I got the most money on my street (My street)
All you lil niggas look cheap (Look cheap)
I'm suckin on his dick with no teeth
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Jackson don't need more press
Get 'em all, put them hoes to rest
Walk in, bulletproof vest
Please tell me who he gon' check
Murder scene, Jackson made a mess
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Monsta's gon' tear it up
Big Phyco
Woo
Yeah
Bitches be pressed
You bitches be pressed
Woo
Yeah
Yeah
Woo
B-Bitches be pressed
They knowin' who run it, real bitch I'm the best
Who the f*ck he gon' check?
He be talking that shit, but not makin a threat
I'm that bitch and he's less
Niggas be mad when they see jackson step in the spot
Say that you 'bout it, we know that you not
I'ma pull up on bitches just give me the drop
Ride in a foreign, im fresh off the yacht
B-B-Bitches in my business, they gon get got
Hoes poppin' shit like they hot but they not
Just iced out the wrist, the Patek, just watch
Niggas be flexing, don't know what you got
Jackson done had got the game in a knot
F*ck on yo nigga, I got him on lock
We gon bang bang like I'm choppin' wit chops
Cuban link chain, I'm in love with the rocks
Ho, you said you gon' snatch it, bitch, you got me chopped
They throwin' shade 'cause the light at the top
Tell that bitch to pull up, as soon as her flight drops
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Jackson don't need more press
Get 'em all, put them hoes to rest
Walk in, bulletproof vest
Please tell me who he gon' check
Murder scene, Jackson made a mess
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Ding dong
Must be that shein that I ordered
And a new chain for my daughter
You know a bad bitch gon' spoil her
Got one in New York, need one in Aurora
New Lamborghini cost a quarter
My money still blue like weave
Coochie still wet like Florida
Everyone drop to the floor
He was talkin' but not anymore
DRAC to his face like contour
This choppa' come straight from Dior
Done with the talkin', we shootin' a pilot
Ask anybody, they know I'm about it
Hashtag whip that ho' ass
F*ck around, it turns out that my talent
I come in this bitch and I'm strapped up and ready
Ride on that dick like I'm Phyco Andretti
F*ck at your crib, put that dick in my belly
He wanted room service, told him get a 'Telly
Bitch I'm a weeb and a freak (and a freak)
I got the most money on my street (My street)
All you lil niggas look cheap (Look cheap)
I'm suckin on his dick with no teeth
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Jackson don't need more press
Get 'em all, put them hoes to rest
Walk in, bulletproof vest
Please tell me who he gon' check
Murder scene, Jackson made a mess
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Press
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
Pop up, guess who, bitch?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Belcalis Almanzar, Dwane Ii Weir, Kleonard Raphael, Marcus Darnell Slade
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, O/B/O DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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