Testo Joggers - DaBaby feat. Stunna 4 Vegas
Testo della canzone Joggers (DaBaby feat. Stunna 4 Vegas), tratta dall'album Baby On Baby
I keep tryna pull up my pants (Uh-huh)
I got thirty thousand in my joggers (Mmh)
I got the pistol on the flight (The flight)
I just flew out to LA from Charlotte
That bitch ain't get shit from Christmas
She naughty (Hah)
In the car with her head down
She nodding
And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it
'Til I put this four-five on his noggin
Fuck all that talking, just put a few mil' on the table
And give me a pen and I'm signin' (Bitch)
I just cut off my bitch (Why?)
'Cause you ain't really with me, be honest
She know I'm a motherfuckin' pimp
She don't get steak and shrimp
B done took a lil' bitch to McDonalds
Put a bag on your motherfuckin' head
Better watch what you said
On my motherfuckin' pics and my comments (Bitch)
In the four I'm a motherfuckin' giant (Huh)
A king like a motherfuckin' lion (Yeah)
Oh, these lil' niggas act like they want that (Uh-huh)
We gon' slide in your DM's, we sliding
Better call up the homicide unit
I make 'em pull out yellow tape with the sirens
They gon' make me come set this bitch off
When I pull that bitch out it's too late to say sorry (Uh-uh)
Niggas thought I was pussy
'Cause they heard me singin' to bitches like YK Osiris (Hah)
I got my mind on my money
Let's run up some motherfuckin' commas (Yeah)
Let's go to the motherfuckin' bank (Haha)
Bitch, I'm from Charlotte, we blank (Blank)
Mama told me to pull up my pants (Why?)
Got them racks on me, mama, I can't (Huh)
I keep tryna pull up my pants
I got thirty thousand in my joggers (Yeah)
I got the pistol on the flight (Uh-huh)
I just flew out to LA from Charlotte
That bitch ain't get shit from Christmas,
She naughty (Hmm)
In the car with her head down
She nodding (Hmm)
And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it
'Til I put this four-five on his noggin
Uh, I keep tryna pull up my pants (Uh)
This big .40 hangin' out my joggers (Uh)
I grew up around them apartments
Now I'm in LA like a Dodger (Ooh)
Won't beef over tweets
I send my young nigga walk down on your ass
Like he stalkin' (Get him out of there)
Uh, leave him fresh to death in a coffin (Uh)
I'm on Runtz, from Cookie I'm coughin' (Uh)
Always up like I'm booted on molly (Boot)
These lil' niggas 12, they talkin' (Fuck)
They can't keep up, Stunna a problem
I can't keep these bitches off me (Goddamn)
Yeah, we bringin' eyes in the party
Make him play with that stick on him 'til he say sorry
Fuck who? I beg your pardon (What?)
Won't cop pleas when shit get started (Nope)
I keep tryna pull up my pants
This big pistol hangin' out my joggers (Wow)
She eat dick when I land
Hit from the back, she call me her father (Ooh)
For my bro, I'll take the stand
Hand on the Bible and lie to your honor
Big dawg, you lil' niggas is toddlers (Yeah)
On the way to the show in the Sprinter
With choppers (Grah, grah, grah)
I keep tryna pull up my pants
I got thirty thousand in my joggers (Yeah)
I got the pistol on the flight (Uh-huh)
I just flew out to LA from Charlotte
That bitch ain't get shit from Christmas
She naughty (Hmm)
In the car with her head down
She noddin' (Hmm)
And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it
'Til I put this four-five on his nogging
Credits
Writer(s): Khalick Antonio Caldwell, Jonathan Lyndale Kirk, Antwain Lamont Fox
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