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Dat Boi Video (MV)




Performed By: MiQ The Burb Boy
Length: 2:00
Written by: Michael Sahakian




MiQ The Burb Boy - Dat Boi Lyrics
Official




All dogs go to heaven
I ain't gotta worry
I ain't gotta worry
My vision 20/20
I ain't got it blurry
I ain't got it blurry
Your sauce too bland
Hit it with the curry
Hit it with the curry
I been seein' this since 4th grade
I was early
Homie I was early
I'm just dat boi from the burbs
I'm just dat boi with the words
I thought this shit was a curse
Tell your girl to hold your purse
When I step in on your turf
I do my worst
I'm grindin' first to the first
Day off when I'm in a hearse
Day off when you in a hearse?
Nah my tracks'll still be playin' that tennis
They always ready wit the serve
Always steady wit the work
I been droppin' on a monthly basis
Just to stay ready for a tur
I mean a tour
I'm in the four
Honin' my skills
I awaken the force
These bitches thought I was talkin' a porsche
When I said I'ma pull up pull up pull up pull up pull up on em with a horse
I meant a stallion
Wearin' medallion
Why the f*ck they always think I'm italian
I make em rally and riot
A valiant fighter
I brought the gasoline
Match and a lighter
A blowtorch and a flamethrower
All inside a pencil, I just write it
I bring the cold warmth
When the rain pourin'
I go spit some shit and set the fire
Walkin' the wire
I'm tired of shittin' on ya'll
Don't give a f*ck
Less a bitch is involved
Don't make a fuss
If I'm cuttin' em off
Sorry not sorry
You don't fit the plan anymore
Get the f*ck up out my bed room, dressin' room
With the questions
I ain't got friendships
I only got brethren
Hoe, lil mama get to steppin
I'm Q
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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




All dogs go to heaven
I ain't gotta worry
I ain't gotta worry
My vision 20/20
I ain't got it blurry
I ain't got it blurry
Your sauce too bland
Hit it with the curry
Hit it with the curry
I been seein' this since 4th grade
I was early
Homie I was early
I'm just dat boi from the burbs
I'm just dat boi with the words
I thought this shit was a curse
Tell your girl to hold your purse
When I step in on your turf
I do my worst
I'm grindin' first to the first
Day off when I'm in a hearse
Day off when you in a hearse?
Nah my tracks'll still be playin' that tennis
They always ready wit the serve
Always steady wit the work
I been droppin' on a monthly basis
Just to stay ready for a tur
I mean a tour
I'm in the four
Honin' my skills
I awaken the force
These bitches thought I was talkin' a porsche
When I said I'ma pull up pull up pull up pull up pull up on em with a horse
I meant a stallion
Wearin' medallion
Why the f*ck they always think I'm italian
I make em rally and riot
A valiant fighter
I brought the gasoline
Match and a lighter
A blowtorch and a flamethrower
All inside a pencil, I just write it
I bring the cold warmth
When the rain pourin'
I go spit some shit and set the fire
Walkin' the wire
I'm tired of shittin' on ya'll
Don't give a f*ck
Less a bitch is involved
Don't make a fuss
If I'm cuttin' em off
Sorry not sorry
You don't fit the plan anymore
Get the f*ck up out my bed room, dressin' room
With the questions
I ain't got friendships
I only got brethren
Hoe, lil mama get to steppin
I'm Q
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Michael Sahakian
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid


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