Peter Popoff ft. Reggie Fye Lyrics

Brody piss a ton off a six think he Ben Wallace

Silk the shocker it ain't shocking that I been bout it

Fucking on his bitch I'm home wrecking, bitch that's Tim problem

Stepping on a loaf in my wheats got my timbs wobbling

Wore a plain Jane on a plane I'm a flight risk

Don't talk to me with lingo

I ain't never been on type shit

New bitch be bilingual talk that chicken, cat and rice shit

Had to put the crew up on that Katt, she got vice grips

Wolf of Wall Street, this drac attached with something stocky

Watch yo diet talking choppy

Thirty clip got perky problems

Keep this shit a hunnid thousand

Thousand island got me dressing up, Hawaiian Casablanca

Rock juelz with my bandana, I keep killas this nostalgia

Get hit with Jackie Chan, if you reach for the medallion

Celine undergarment got me fucking on Italians

Bitch I'm about a bag catch a shell to the scallop

I'm the type to Peter pop off at a nigga, like the pastor

Strike off Henny hen, Benny Hinn she anointed

Dope dick I got her snorting

Tenny ten what I score it

In a Benny Benz glass tinted with a foreign

It's a faucet on my wrist, Peter Poppy spring water

Nigga tell me if it's true or not

Did I Peter pop-off with yo bitch, that bitch my thooter now

Did I Peter pop-off with that chop, that had them hooters out

I might Peter pop out in some shit, that bring the hoochies out

I can't put my Peter in a skeezer, I'm so Cooley high/

I ain't gone lie I did fuck she on my coofie now

I been dropping shit inside this water, it's so roofied down

Bitch I been turnt up to the max I wore my rubies out

Took the wide body on a drill six the body count

Fo was on the block, we hit up two, fix the body count

Bro said I ain't acting like myself, I'm out my body now

Nina come with titties, aw shit she got her body out

Niggas renting strikers off of Turo that shit dumb as fuck

Facial recognition that A.I, you better mask up

Slim Jimmy clip an ear drummer, finna blast something

Nigga think he backdooring something, shit I'm door-dash hunting

Took the police on a chamberlain, shit I'm past hunnit

I been looking for a throwaway, feel like I'm trash dumping

In all black ya momma crying that's a bad onion

Nina on some bad bitch timing trying to bag something

Strike off Henny hen, Benny Hinn she anointed

Dope dick I got her snorting

Tenny ten what I score it

In a Benny Benz glass tinted with a foreign

It's a faucet on my wrist, Peter Poppy spring water

Nigga tell me if it's true or not

Did I Peter pop-off with yo bitch, that bitch my thooter now

Did I Peter pop-off with that chop, that had them hooters out

I might Peter pop out in some shit, that bring the hoochies out, man