Wooh Da Kid - Volume lyrics

Published

0 130 0

Wooh Da Kid - Volume lyrics

I'm so motherf**in' turned up right now Someone please turn Gucci Mane down Brick Squad thugged out, we don't give a f** We hit the club, shoot the club, tear the club up So you should hit the floor. Get low and shut up Hit the floor, get low and shut the f** up You's a b**h, you's a snitch, you a motherf**in' scrub [Verse 1 - Gucci Mane] I pulled up in a 4-door Porsche, set-trippin' 3 young dreadhead n***as riding with me I don't think they like me and I don't like em neither But if they move wrong, I'll red up their white beater I do it for the hood, I do it like no equal I do it for the red, black, yellow, white people I just bought a K, just the other day And I don't play with grown men: I don't like to play I'm so motherf**in' turned up right now n***as hang on me, I don't give a f** right now Well you n***as keep on trying like the little engine that could You think you can, you think you could, I think you pussies should [Hook] [Verse 2 - Gucci Mane] Call me Gucci Flocka Flame, I dun changed my name Call me Frenchie Mane La Flare, Gucc' the Kid..it's all the same I be running, gunning, stunting with 100 k**ers riding You snitching, b**hing, tattle-telling, scared to stand beside me I just bought another house just to house my goons So Icey Entertainment, boy, we just like a platoon The colors in my chain remind me of a cartoon I'll murk your boy in March, they didn't find that boy til June I wish they found him August so that's like "too much too soon" His face was swoll and puffy, bout the color of a prune Brick Squad Movement and, no, you're not apart of it Me, Waka and Wu, Juice and Frenchie Mane started it [Hook] [Verse 3 - Wu the Kid] Iced out bar got me ballin' like the Lakers Homicide around the corner. Where you, in Jamaica? My volume on max, you boys better run I'm a n***a With an Attitude holding on the gun 17 n***as, I left 16 hit Last n***a hit the corner, got his whole head split Told you you're a goner, I'mma leave you dead quick I'm like Wu the Kid, thugged out, we don't give a f** Let your soul meet the sole of the bottom of my Chucks Black car, black tint with the baby tags Stay low to the floor, my midget out the bag

You need to sign in for commenting.
No comments yet.