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SOS Video (MV)




Performed By: Wub Wub
Length: 2:42
Written by: Kenneth Fletcher




Wub Wub - SOS Lyrics




Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit
F*ckin with my whole clique

Holsters with extended clips
My diamonds sick
My wrist is slick

Runnin, runnin, runnin
Till I clear the ditch
No condom when I f*ck your bitch
She might be pregnant but not your kid

Do you realize who you're f*ckin with?
You don't even bang
Watch you f*ckin slip
Hide out in your room
But we in the civic

Windows tinted
No permission
F*ck your feelings
Always trippin when you text my digits
Girl, quit playing
Just let me finish
Bury a body with no witness

Spider senses say I got some snitches
But I'm here with bitches
All yall just a bunch of dipshits
Downshift when I bust a big lick
I'm driving while she's splittin spliff sticks
& suckin my dick

666
Watch me switch fits
Watch me quick dip
Watch me purp sip
Watch the curb! Lit
Watch the dirt kid
Don't endorse kicks
F*ck a mortgage
F*ck the court shit
F*ck it, Forfeit

Like I don't know shit

My rhymes are flowing like the ocean
& I got weed & I'm rollin
& smokin & smokin...

I'm smokin weed
Car gassed up we gonna fled the scene
Burnin loud like you burnt my dreams
Kickin back trippin LSD
On the couch & you feelin me
Our eyes are locked I see she wants the D

I wanna get inbetween
Why do I push you away when you're all I need?

Guess I'll have to stay OG
Break my heart I'm finna OD
Super f*ckin slowly
When I'm dying would you hold me?
F*ck me too, But you don't know me

Rollin 4 deep in the backseat
Backwoods louder than DMT
Interviewing with TMZ
My lyricis is TNT
Explode on her back after I make her scream
Shit

Really its just a fake game
My soul is blanker than a blank slate
I suck & I'm stuck in a sad place
Give them a mad face
All these groupies are mad fake
So we can't relate
Take her on a date
Just to tell her shes f*ckin lame
I have no f*ckin shame
[ 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.




Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit
F*ckin with my whole clique

Holsters with extended clips
My diamonds sick
My wrist is slick

Runnin, runnin, runnin
Till I clear the ditch
No condom when I f*ck your bitch
She might be pregnant but not your kid

Do you realize who you're f*ckin with?
You don't even bang
Watch you f*ckin slip
Hide out in your room
But we in the civic

Windows tinted
No permission
F*ck your feelings
Always trippin when you text my digits
Girl, quit playing
Just let me finish
Bury a body with no witness

Spider senses say I got some snitches
But I'm here with bitches
All yall just a bunch of dipshits
Downshift when I bust a big lick
I'm driving while she's splittin spliff sticks
& suckin my dick

666
Watch me switch fits
Watch me quick dip
Watch me purp sip
Watch the curb! Lit
Watch the dirt kid
Don't endorse kicks
F*ck a mortgage
F*ck the court shit
F*ck it, Forfeit

Like I don't know shit

My rhymes are flowing like the ocean
& I got weed & I'm rollin
& smokin & smokin...

I'm smokin weed
Car gassed up we gonna fled the scene
Burnin loud like you burnt my dreams
Kickin back trippin LSD
On the couch & you feelin me
Our eyes are locked I see she wants the D

I wanna get inbetween
Why do I push you away when you're all I need?

Guess I'll have to stay OG
Break my heart I'm finna OD
Super f*ckin slowly
When I'm dying would you hold me?
F*ck me too, But you don't know me

Rollin 4 deep in the backseat
Backwoods louder than DMT
Interviewing with TMZ
My lyricis is TNT
Explode on her back after I make her scream
Shit

Really its just a fake game
My soul is blanker than a blank slate
I suck & I'm stuck in a sad place
Give them a mad face
All these groupies are mad fake
So we can't relate
Take her on a date
Just to tell her shes f*ckin lame
I have no f*ckin shame
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Kenneth Fletcher
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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