Migos - Whole lotta
Overige artiesten: Young thug Quavo Lil yachty Lil duke Takeoff

Dun Deal, C4, fuck nigga
Niggas drop salt and rice
Fuck 'round and hop out 'Gatti
4 Bombs Baby, brrr
Dun Deal, ay, Migos
Know what I'm sayin everything we do is mafia, you know
Everything we take-talk is saucy, you know
Every bitch we fuck with bossy, bossy, bossy, you know
You hear me darlin'? (Yea! Yea!)

Yeah I got a whole lotta syrup (uh)
And we got a whole lotta molly (lotta molly)
Today I put some red in a sprite (some red)
And I got a whole lotta Jolly's (huh!)
And I got my dogs all with me (grr!)
And you know they all spoiled rotten (woo)
And I got some reading glasses on (woah)
And I seen right through ya body (cold heart)
Ride it 'til you catch a child (child, child)
How the hell a snake drive spineless?
Pockets filled up like the wallets (uh)
Smokin' OG fuck broccoli (uh)
She asked me, "Did I ever fuck shawty?" (uh)
She asked me 'bout some head in the 'Rari (oh)
Did she ever hide in the closet? (uh, uh , uh)

Pour me up syrup, pop perc, man flow loss urban run into the herbs
I'ma try to swerve 'cause the fuckin' Rolls Royce so big gotta park it on the curb
And I gotta real big bag off a whole lotta pounds and a whole lotta birds
And I gotta whole lotta gangstas, and a whole lotta killas and a whole lotta nerds, yeah
And I gotta whole lotta money and I count that shit like a mufuckin' clerk (oh yeah)
I done fucked a whole lotta hoes, and I hope made everyone of 'em squirt, yeah
And I seen the Migos today, yeah, and they said, "Culture for life", yeah
And they got the number one album, ou
And I told 'em all I'm excited, ouu
And I told 'em all that they righteous, ouu
All you gotta do is be with Christ (facts!)
Niggas drop salt and rice (damn)
All it did was make me precise (okay)
Nigga done gone all red, now a nigga feelin' like Yachty
Nigga got drips on drips (yeah), fuck round and hop out the 'Gotti

Yeah I got ice on ice (yeah)
Then I put a bitch on white (yeah)
Told the bih to ride my pegs (yeah)
Told the bih to ride my bike (ride)
And I got money in the streets (yeah)
Momma gotta keep it on fleek (mama)
Coupe got suede in the seats (skrr, skrr)
Fishtail [?] in the streets (skrr, skrr)
[?] frames on, Urkel (ay)
Two styrofoam , purple (yeah)
None of my niggas, workers (ay)
Gansgtas all in the circle (oh yeah)
Shoot at your shell, turtle (pff, pff)
Shoot at your body and head, hurtle (pff, pff, pff)
I got the molly and percocets serve em (serve)
I got the molly and percocets serve em (serve)
Big bills, big wave (big bills)
Cook it up, soufflé (cook it up)
Beat it up, by Quay (beat it up)
3K, Andre (three thou')
My bitch, she slay (bitch)
AK don't play (brrrp)
On top, too paid (top)
Big tab, I pay

Lil Boat, Lil Boat, Lil Boat, Lil Boat, uh
All of my brothers got 30's, uh
Left hand squeeze like Curry, uh
My niggas bossin' not workers (bosses)
Two cup drank we're dirty, uh
Catch a lil' bitch that's from South Alabama
I told her that pussy so perfect (so perfect)
She tried to fuck me, no condom (hell nah)
That's how I know that bitch dirty (Lil Boat, Lil Boat)
Across the border, my phone got no service
You barely just touchin' the surface (brrp)
I put that bitch on the perky, her titties is perky
I got that bitch suckin' for certain
None of my niggas is hurtin', uh
About them Franklins I [?] them all
Young nigga flexing on purpose, uh (flex)
Ballin' so hard with no jersey on
Hey, chopper style, you got one night make it worth your while
Hey, Gun 'em down, hundred round drum [?] what's now
Hey I'm 19, ay, fuckin' on a hoe with the same age child (Lil Boat)
Throw the towel, fuck nigga bite Mike Tyson style

Poured a whole four in the Phantom
Me and lil' freak and lil' bih with no manners
Private jet [?] you know where we landing
She suckin' that dick and she callin' me daddy (suckin)
Send me the skirt and I'm kickin' her box (send me the skirt)
I fuck on that bitch and I'm kickin' her out (kickin' her out)
Hope I get fucked? dont give fuck 'bout no drought
We get them lows and then we get 'em out (we get 'em out)
Don't gotta tell 'em they know what we 'bout (know what we 'bout)
Came from the block tryna fold me a knot
And I'm aim that nut right in her mouth
Pull up my pants and I'm skrrting right out (skrr)
Why you stand at the store with the bomb? (the bomb)
The trap pullin' up and they know I'm around (know I'm around)
How you can't cannot trap without the guns (without the guns)
Start throwin' hunnids I ran outta ones

Writers: Quavious Marshall , Miles Parks Mccollum , Jeffery Lamar Williams , Kirshnik Khari Ball

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. , Songtrust Ave , Ultra Tunes

Lyrics licensed by LyricFind