Cmon, Cmon
(Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread)
(Talk bout no bread, talk bout no bread)
(Oh yea, Oh yea)
I got Solar on this bitch, I got Solar on this bitch, I got Solar on this bitch
(Aye, Ya, Cmon)
Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread
I ain't tryna hear shit instead,
I put them racks on his head leave him dead
Niggas cut up they end up getting (Cmon Cmon)
Niggas cut up they end up getting shred
Paint shit like Di'Vinci leave the whole city red
Roll up shh in this wood but his bitch as to sleep
The way we clean up it's like feds did a sweep
I do dirt by myself so you can't tell on me
Make a pussy boy bleed woulda thought he was in heat
Pop out on your block your face meet the concrete
My team full of stars hell yea we elite
I be balling like Wall in the bag I go deep
Need a Chase hit my phone drop them racks in a week
He ain't talkin' bout money shit foreign to me (That shit foreign to me)
Yea, that shit foreign to me
Can't hear what you saying that shit like Chinese
Pop out with my heat and give you 1st degree
It's a blrr on this bitch all u gotta do is squeeze
I b chiefing dead opps I can hear him scream
Swear I get on this bitch and I (Cmon Cmon)
Swear I get on this bitch and I spit it's a breeze
I got these racks bitch you can't put me on
Big ass 40 it's gone put you on a tee
Now you some drip I put on
Think he fly as a bitch he still wearing Vlone
F*ck with Bruce but that bullshit I do not condone
You get bruised for that bullshit you say on that phone
Better duck when we slide through boa' you better prone
I'm a dog yes I lie I just wanted to bone
I geek up the M3 love the way it get gone
Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread
I ain't tryna hear shit instead,
I put them racks on his head leave him dead
Niggas cut up they end up getting
Niggas cut up they end up getting shred
Paint shit like Di'Vinci leave the the whole city red
Roll up shh in this wood but his bitch as to sleep
The way we clean up it's like feds did a sweep
I do dirt by myself so you can't tell on me
Make a pussy boy bleed woulda thought he was in heat
Pop out on your block your face meet the concrete
My team full of stars hell yea we elite
I be balling like Wall in the bag I go deep
Need a Chase hit my phone drop them racks in a week
He ain't talkin' bout money shit foreign to me (He ain't talkin' bout no money)
Yea, that shit foreign to me
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
uhhswift - A Breeze Lyrics
uhhswift - A Breeze Lyrics
Official
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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English
Cmon, Cmon
(Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread)
(Talk bout no bread, talk bout no bread)
(Oh yea, Oh yea)
I got Solar on this bitch, I got Solar on this bitch, I got Solar on this bitch
(Aye, Ya, Cmon)
Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread
I ain't tryna hear shit instead,
I put them racks on his head leave him dead
Niggas cut up they end up getting (Cmon Cmon)
Niggas cut up they end up getting shred
Paint shit like Di'Vinci leave the whole city red
Roll up shh in this wood but his bitch as to sleep
The way we clean up it's like feds did a sweep
I do dirt by myself so you can't tell on me
Make a pussy boy bleed woulda thought he was in heat
Pop out on your block your face meet the concrete
My team full of stars hell yea we elite
I be balling like Wall in the bag I go deep
Need a Chase hit my phone drop them racks in a week
He ain't talkin' bout money shit foreign to me (That shit foreign to me)
Yea, that shit foreign to me
Can't hear what you saying that shit like Chinese
Pop out with my heat and give you 1st degree
It's a blrr on this bitch all u gotta do is squeeze
I b chiefing dead opps I can hear him scream
Swear I get on this bitch and I (Cmon Cmon)
Swear I get on this bitch and I spit it's a breeze
I got these racks bitch you can't put me on
Big ass 40 it's gone put you on a tee
Now you some drip I put on
Think he fly as a bitch he still wearing Vlone
F*ck with Bruce but that bullshit I do not condone
You get bruised for that bullshit you say on that phone
Better duck when we slide through boa' you better prone
I'm a dog yes I lie I just wanted to bone
I geek up the M3 love the way it get gone
Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread
I ain't tryna hear shit instead,
I put them racks on his head leave him dead
Niggas cut up they end up getting
Niggas cut up they end up getting shred
Paint shit like Di'Vinci leave the the whole city red
Roll up shh in this wood but his bitch as to sleep
The way we clean up it's like feds did a sweep
I do dirt by myself so you can't tell on me
Make a pussy boy bleed woulda thought he was in heat
Pop out on your block your face meet the concrete
My team full of stars hell yea we elite
I be balling like Wall in the bag I go deep
Need a Chase hit my phone drop them racks in a week
He ain't talkin' bout money shit foreign to me (He ain't talkin' bout no money)
Yea, that shit foreign to me
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread)
(Talk bout no bread, talk bout no bread)
(Oh yea, Oh yea)
I got Solar on this bitch, I got Solar on this bitch, I got Solar on this bitch
(Aye, Ya, Cmon)
Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread
I ain't tryna hear shit instead,
I put them racks on his head leave him dead
Niggas cut up they end up getting (Cmon Cmon)
Niggas cut up they end up getting shred
Paint shit like Di'Vinci leave the whole city red
Roll up shh in this wood but his bitch as to sleep
The way we clean up it's like feds did a sweep
I do dirt by myself so you can't tell on me
Make a pussy boy bleed woulda thought he was in heat
Pop out on your block your face meet the concrete
My team full of stars hell yea we elite
I be balling like Wall in the bag I go deep
Need a Chase hit my phone drop them racks in a week
He ain't talkin' bout money shit foreign to me (That shit foreign to me)
Yea, that shit foreign to me
Can't hear what you saying that shit like Chinese
Pop out with my heat and give you 1st degree
It's a blrr on this bitch all u gotta do is squeeze
I b chiefing dead opps I can hear him scream
Swear I get on this bitch and I (Cmon Cmon)
Swear I get on this bitch and I spit it's a breeze
I got these racks bitch you can't put me on
Big ass 40 it's gone put you on a tee
Now you some drip I put on
Think he fly as a bitch he still wearing Vlone
F*ck with Bruce but that bullshit I do not condone
You get bruised for that bullshit you say on that phone
Better duck when we slide through boa' you better prone
I'm a dog yes I lie I just wanted to bone
I geek up the M3 love the way it get gone
Bitch ass nigga ain't talkin' bout no bread
I ain't tryna hear shit instead,
I put them racks on his head leave him dead
Niggas cut up they end up getting
Niggas cut up they end up getting shred
Paint shit like Di'Vinci leave the the whole city red
Roll up shh in this wood but his bitch as to sleep
The way we clean up it's like feds did a sweep
I do dirt by myself so you can't tell on me
Make a pussy boy bleed woulda thought he was in heat
Pop out on your block your face meet the concrete
My team full of stars hell yea we elite
I be balling like Wall in the bag I go deep
Need a Chase hit my phone drop them racks in a week
He ain't talkin' bout money shit foreign to me (He ain't talkin' bout no money)
Yea, that shit foreign to me
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
(He ain't talkin' bout no money)
Writer: uhh Swift
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid