Bad Blood ft. Allo Thompson, Diran J & Ubsa Lyrics

Probably be lit if I run the streets with the misfits, but

I told my momma I wouldn't be a statistic 'cause

I really try, but this girl is being sadistic bruh

Instead of hisfits, we should be seeing the mission bruh

Instead of tripping, we should be packing and tripping but uh

I would not miss it as long as I'm on my mission 'cause uh

My dad had told me these girls were just a distraction

To keep my eyes on the prize, and these liars won't even matter at all

They go on Twitter then call me trash, then they call me back

Just to say she miss me I'm different, she really want me back

And all of that, yadda-yadda Louie, Gucci, Prada, she want all of that

Balenziaga, Fendi red bottoms with the side that strap

With the custom crib on Ponce De Leon, baby dial it back

I thought that we was friends if you can call it that

Bad blood, bad blood

I'm tryna get my racks up, racks up

Bad blood

Never ask for permission when you want it baby

I know the words I'm saying to you drive you crazy

Its never my intentions, I'm just a Latin lover with a nigga image

Father please forgive me, Know I said I'll stop chasing women

But the way the world work, I'm moving different

I got a stride in my walk now, I gained charisma

The OGs on the block will past the wisdom, once they finished living

The Lord knows I've been patient with 'em

So now I drink D"usse on the weekends

Then I hit the club with my three friends

Smell like hard liquor and vape pens

A whole nother nigga off that mixture I shape-shift

I can't say much, so I don't say shit

I know where you from, you better watch who you bang wit

Blue bans and bad blood ain't mix since the playpen

I roll grass and slap ass, I know I don't play fair

We been stars that shoot far, remember your place here

'Cause bad blood, bad blood

Always coming racks up, racks up

Yeah, yeah

Looks like they done made me the chip off the old block

Ubsa stuff in' the heat like the Stovetops

Just know you can't wither spoons like they sold Pops

Son of Diddy, I told you we won't stop

We like the Senior mafia, setting up new policies

If you can't handle the kingdom then my apologies

Ain't gon' beg you to come 'round, take this blessing

And ain't no thanks to give, the whole set is dressing

Oops I mean stuffing, I know you love the whiteys

But doc will get you X-ed if you playing with his psyche

Never been the type to rap about what I don't have

Suburban kid with a Benz, nigga do the math

Not tryna impress nobody man, I know my path

Hit the Silent Bob with my bread, I keep a stash

Bad blood, bad blood

I'm tryna get these racks up, racks up

My squad we out here cashed up, cashed up

Yeah we out here cast up, cast up

Bad blood