lirik lagu willie the kid - bermuda
[intro]
brady (yo)
ayo, yo, yo
yo, tcp
[verse 1: willie the kid]
i need my b~tch loyal to my bullsh~t, no republican
rich enough to be republican, the mornin’ joe (yo, yo, yo)
f~ck the joe public, this ain’t no lil pump (knahimean?)
we big pimpin’, trump type, i’m not your average joe
duct tape on the pump, stick talk, wooden stock, uh
i come from good stock, knock your block off (yo, yo)
a chip off the o block, this ain’t tiktok
my own n~ggas think they o’block (yeah), the new o~dog (hahahaha)
young, black, and don’t give a f~ck (yeah), i’m givin’ jobs
i don’t steal, i rob, black turtle neck (yo, yo, yo)
like i’m steve jobs, key fobs and keep pads too
atleast three pads, pad lock the sh~t
you n~ggas better off dead, my bullets sprayin’ like bad news
news cameras on half thе avenue (sh~t taped off)
uh, thеy say bad news travels fast (yo, yo, yo)
bally shoes in my travel bag (the fly, n~gga)
old horsemouth b~tch, dior saddle bag
i’m flaggin’ redbones, like a yellow cab
[interlude: willie the kid & rome streetz]
it’s willie
i’m just f~ckin’ with you, baby
you know i f~ck with you (ayo)
[verse 2: rome streetz]
my b~tch a goddess, her look exotic (aha)
right there when i’m cookin’ product, said, “baby, you got it, all them n~ggas garbage” (n~ggas trash)
if you stupid, you should do the knowledge (word)
and keep your mouth silent if your speech ain’t got nothin’ to do with dollars (shut the f~ck up)
as a youth, kept the deuce deuce pocket~popper (popper)
put some hot copper in your posture
first them n~ggas give you props and then they try to mock ya
try to duplicate my dance moves, fool, you just another imposter (f~ck outta here)
attempt to ride my wave and got washed, look, now my stock up (aha)
i rap, i’m still a crook, got blind b~tches tryna watch us (for real)
every day a different designer rocker (yuh)
easy for me to eat in this era, ’cause these n~ggas here ain’t rhymin’ proper (n~ggas washed)
take a hit of this, align your chakras
when i dine, it’s ocean prime with the lobster, shots of vodka (what else?)
suit and tie, been thuggin’ like ‘pac when he shot the cops up (aha)
all these n~ggas food, i view this rap sh~t as a potluck (i do)
no wins is what you got in mi casa, you a hasa
probably got pork on your plate, you n~ggas washed up
[outro: rome streetz]
f~ck outta here
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