Bruh...

Lyrics

Bruh
 Bruh
 LD
 Bruh
 A.K.A Stem Cells
 Evrrybody know the cat like a dope meme
 I got 'em buzzing off the crack like a dope fiend
 They saw 'em come up with a Mac, yeah, I'm so Steve
 Nowadays, bitches tryna crack, got 'em ODing
 Like, how them hoes want to get it with L?
 They know it's cold enough to charge, like a letterman sale
 If they gon' stand behind the bars, I'm in federal jail
 I'm going far like a general mail
 On that note, I got the fellas saying "What up," the tape, what up?
 The same motherfucker playing with his steak cut up
 I'm great, shut up, the flowing, no debate, just us
 I'm out of shape, but I'm straight to fuck
 Yeah, you know I got a chicken in the condo
 I was sick of getting off beat, she a bongo
 Now she playing with the hard D, being Rondo
 Drunk and go inside her all sweet like a Strongbow, how I'ma do?
 I got your ex coming next like a W do
 I gotta flex, I'm the best, now I'm being direct
 I'm unimpressed by these bitches that I see in the press
 I'm kinda vexed by the trash like I'm cleaning a mess
 'Cause they as real when they rap as a Chia's a pet
 They old news, stocks plummet, men's leg hair, they ain't cut it
 Forget about your era, Pat Summitt
 Finesse writtens
 I wanna get a hundred bitches and fuck with the spitting
 Religious like a couple of post-marital Christians
 I've been official, Dick Bevetta a living
 You better dig it like you bitches got a mill in the ditch
 I'm killing this shit I been kicking like a villainous ninja
 My shit is gripping when I run it, how the fuck I be slipping?
 I be intimate with them hoes, she never flummoxed
 I take chick, pee, and smash, I call it hummus
 And I be funny with this shit, I'm just playing
 And still nobody fucking with the kid, I'm just saying, ah
 Got a chicken parm on the date, it seem
 But I don't even know the broad, she just grating the cheese
 I don't even got a job, I just blaze and free
 But still they give a boy bands, 98 degrees
 So come fuck with me
 I got a couple hundred bitches doing drugs with me
 And I got a couple dozen bitches tryna hug Dicky
 And I got a couple bitches who be steady fucking me
 Hey, that's a good ass life
 Only thing I got left, find a good ass wife
 But yo, I gotta hit these hoes first, don't tell Mom
 But in a year, I'ma bend over Michelle Obama
 Bruh, you know I gotta do it while I'm hot
 I'm tryna get blew in most states like Barack
 I'm tryna show a boo the last name of the Rock
 And put her on D 'til we O, J Watt
 I never hit the scene, when I do, I'm high and wasted
 I'm fucking with them jeans, love them bitches high-waisted
 I run around your team, you a player, but I'm Naismith
 And I command V, while you copy, I just paste it, face it
 Hotel got 'em puffing on the L, going harder than some hail, you ain't knew it
 If evrrybody had to tell the truth, and you had to pick a dude
 Spitting better than your dude, can't do it
 Telling me, damn, you got bitches, damn, you got hoes
 Damn, you got money, but damn, I got flow
 Damn, you got riches, damn, you got clothes
 Damn, you got honeys, but damn, I got soul, hold up
 This shit I'm making's always tight, it's like a yoga store
 They all up in the other boat, it's why I'm overboard
 I'm taking time to do it right, it's like a soda pour
 'Cause we ain't loving all you bitches like we spoken for
 Damn, packing the bandwagon, the man cracking
 The man packing the stands, had them clapping they hands
 Tagging they Grams, Manhattan was ham
 Slapping the fans, playing having the plan
 Fans rapping the jams, sagging my pants
 You see the type of shit I do on the track?
 Hot shit, like I poop in the jacket
 Won't mack your bitch, but yo, I'm 'bout to come and mack your clique
 Your whole friend group fucking with Dick (no hetero)
 I yawn when I hear these motherfuckers on the radio
 They ball all retarded, Cuba Gooding up in radio
 I long for the moment I can say that's not debatable
 I'm past that, I wonder who appreciate it like a Snapchat
 Aflac, duck the dude, I'm going hard for the grind, but I tuck this move
 I made war with the rhymes, motherfuck your crew
 These bitches going Adolf, tryna fuck this Jew
 I'm too nice, like a motherfucker that fell in love with a boo twice
 As in double as fuckable as he was and dude tries
 To be subtle and get her cuddling
 Venting her troubles and getting her truffles
 And ending up befuddled when she don't fuck him
 And someone tell him, "Listen, you bugging
 She never fucking a pedestrian muggle like you
 So why all the trouble?" but he rebuttal with
 "I think I just love her, so I would shudder at the thought
 Of being anything other than nice?" (I'm that nice)
 Peeping like a Porta Potty
 It wasn't even deep, dang, shit is still a hobby
 It's too bad bitches sleeping on me, threesome
 'Cause now these bitches want to help, but he don't need none
 I'm all time, like the Wall at the Bank
 You've no shot, like you drawing a blank
 Honestly, you probably couldn't hang, man, I've been drawing a blank
 Giving you lines, while you sitting there and drawing a blank
 So go in the rink, chilling like it's dough in the bank
 And I'm flowing danker than a grower in Napa
 Growing the stankest cannabis
 Doing rap and pro-est smacking the hoe-est rappers
 And showing the total package, like my flaccid is growing fatter
 Samoan cracker, dapper rapper, had to keep going
 Yeah, that rap is a wrap, I know you rappers napping, don't know it
 There's a dagger pita pappa, tapping on the window
 It's a real accurate metaphor of what you having in store
 And I be snapping, I mean I be splashing on the pane me your rain
 Falling quicker than Aladdin for his dame
 Oh, you better than me?
 Bruh
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:22
Key
2
Tempo
106 BPM

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