Double Tae - WWYD (feat. MajorPaper Quon)

It's time to pop like some kettle corn
I'm the GOAT, all I need is a set of horns
These niggas speak on my name when I'm not there, see me, shake it up just like Bella Thorne
Lame bitch, gotta know that you hella corn
Youngin ball out in Florida like Trevor Lawrence
Or maybe like Jimmy, or Brady, or Tua, I'm balling so hard I might tear a groin
Aye we having bitches and bankrolls
Ain't a place in the city I can't go
I'm the hardest, can't say you ain't know
Niggas with whips, getting back for Django
That's a caption, I know what you came fo'
Yeezy the boots and moncler for the raincoat
Ain't a sweet thing like Rufus and Chaka, you gotta know y'all running out, it's the same jokes
But she want the fat cat, all in her fat cat
I like to stand when I hit off the Black Jack
Labels must come with that bread like a flap jack
Still running shit, I'm the quarter and halfback
The snakes be exposing they self so I sat back
The wood better ash that
Got off on a scat pack
Got so small in the rearview, couldn't tell it was matte black
Young nigga fly like up, up, and away
I ain't running from smoke, took a puff to the face
V Diamond cut like a fucking filet
Shit get serious, so I had enough of the play
Get money, but don't put it up where you stay
These niggas be roguish, (Uh)
These bitches be bogus
Come on open yo heart to some pain from a poet
Aye it's getting critical, barely breathing
4 P's in the M, it's a early evening
Why they hating on me, care to share the reason
Hope they go thru a heart break and tear to pieces
Looking for me, they know where to reach me
In my cup, this is drank not a pair of Reese's
They wasn't having no sauce til I shared the seasoning
Gave my heart to the game, and told her to keep it
Keep me some Major Paper, cause this paper major
Got a tub on me, but this water flavored
Drop a dub on em, but I'm not a Laker
Plenty hoes on me, let me call my Tailor
Yeah I'm out of favors, fuck these bitch niggas
Gotta call em traitors, As-salamu alaikum
I can temple fade em, that's without the razor
Jumping like a raver
Double this
Triple that
Put a 4 on em
I don't tit for tat
We can roll on it
Where my fucking black
Light a stove on em
Where the fucking match
Left em sore from it
This that, in ya sack
What a lit high
He can't give it back
Call it Sky High
This that super package
Now I'm floating on clouds nigga, waiting for a kick back
Feeling like they ain't gone come up with it
Cause having balls really come with feelings
Testosterone, got him out position
My move strong, knock em off his pivot
Offtwo phones, greening like I'm Cricket
Thistwo goals, hood nigga vivid
No shoes, clothes, and still will fit the image
Now, who told ya you was fit to blemish
Sudoku, ya numbers kind of iffy
Ya hit four stores, and still ain't like a picture
This JoJo, K-Ci get to tripping
Four Loko, the hood nigga sipping
I think they kind of like when I revisit
The thoughts of a nigga from the trenches
The cloth you niggas cut from senseless
What would you do if acting wasn't pictured
What would you do if acting wasn't pictured

Written by:
Deunta Jeffries, Daquon Wilson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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