BIC - Wuts That lyrics
[Hook] WUTS THAT We all up in this b**h WUTS THAT Pack up the plats, pa** me the gut bag WUTS THAT (roll up) It's 3:59 n***a, take a sip, face a rip, all my homies in this b**h WUTS THAT We all up in this b**h (we in here n***a) WUTS THAT Pack up the plats, pa** me the gut bag WUTS THAT (roll up) It's 3:59 n***a, take a sip, face a rip, all my homies in this b**h [Verse 1: PETE] My n***a I'm the stoned bong ripper Uptown rain hit you hard like liquor Hi, b**h n***as, for you high pitched tenors, I'm the f**in' tone setter Heard you singing something real, sounding real falsetto Head over heels for the mills, still I'ma never chill 'til my bank account filled and my cat got a grill All I do is feel up the meanest s*uts, the cleanest c*nts that fiend to f**, and lean the Blunts Scheme with us and the Ds enough Said your man need a gram cause he's a dub Why you brought that b**h around, I'ma leave with her Nah n***a you f**ed up, I am a custie and a connect I'm lucky I got the flow ‘cause I'd probably smoke my whole pack (light it) Now n***a WUTS THAT, you talking sh** oh I didn't hear Over the loud we smoking we getting high over here Can't hear you n***a WUTS THAT Ignoramus, talking sh** won't get you famous Put your opinion in your an*s, and your name is? I don't give a f** n***a [Hook] [Verse 2: IZZY] Same n***a from the jump, so jump ship ‘Cause I swear I won't stop n***a you can hate me now My n***as got no chill bu*ton, but chillin with your b**h, b**h n***a like break it down Bronx bred, used to love Theresa from the Ursula b**hes, giving bomb head Now Ivy League b**hes giving bomb head, and she ain't even have a clue that we on next Bon appétit, rocket broccoli, got me leaked, can't imagine where I'm at (at home) Olly olly oxen free, f** that where the molly molly oxy be Ppoppin in like what's popping, got a few cuff hoes tryna be options Opting into my dick, young n***a ‘bout his, what the f** I care if I'm a little obnoxious f**ed up, I need a buff blunt, like stop playing n***as know what's up And if you ain't got chips n***a tough luck, ‘cause I throw it up like I don't get enough love At the MoMA, feeling like Hova, working on a blueprint, watch me take over n***a I strive under pressure, live from the Mecca Going' in my thing until I'm lying on a stretcher [Hook] [Verse 3: ILLZ] So let me paint you a picture, we on the couch in my crib She snort blow off the records, when we f** man I punch in her ribs Poppin' the lid on all these ideas, with all of my sons no wonder they see us They need us, they know us, they thought I know you feeling a way but don't start You aiming too far, you ain't gonna hit sh**, though I been drinking and munching on biscuits Your b**h wanna french kiss slow for that (not), tell one of my homies to hold my pack (hot) If you want static then change the backdrop, if you ain't about it then hit the ragtop Before you talk sh** better get a laptop, in this b**h with a bunch of havenots BOUNCE BOUNCE Walking on you motherf**ing b**hes, baptism at the bar got ‘em feeling so religious Wasn't luck, it was physics, if they love you then they love you I ain't better just above you, be a shame if I wasn't And the sweetest of the purples keeps me coasting like a buzzard Big shout out bu*ta bu*ta (bu*ta bu*ta!) he said hurry up and light it Son don't fight it put your lighters up, the night is young, I'm feeling chilly Hiding my d**, promoters screaming WHO THE fu*k INVITED ‘EM [Hook]