FMP ft. ST6 JodyBoof Lyrics

I'm spinnin' in strikers I'm spinnin' In blows I'm spinnin' on opps, so it's Fuck my phone

I jump out in Amiri, I'm changin' My clothes I'm bendin' on blocks, I Ain't even been home

Soon as I walk in, she take a nigga Soul Soon I walk in, you know she Trying go

On some different shit, had to Switch up the flow I'm sippin' this Tris, this shit got me slow

Don't call me for shit, you know That it's sold Get hungry for pape', I Get in that mode

I could play the bags, or I could Work the stove It's hot outside, left a Nigga cold

Give me seven days, get my wrist On froze Old ass money, I'll let it Mold

These youngins, they talkin', they Bold We ain't even got no picks, We'll get on the troll

Like, how could you told, you told? Mr. skrrt I'm a real driver, I punish The road

On the bricks everything right here Float, I punish these beats, & don't Write she said, boy, you a goat

She like Keez where you about to Go? I said, take it slow, before I Leave out the house with a note

Behind that wheel, push the pedal, I Float Houdini get low, but I still Don't play with no ghost

QB, Point guard no coach, she like, You don't miss with me She like, What you take me as a joke

I just told her, throw me a oop But She just told me the truth, (she only Want throw throat)

I'm walkin' through s**t, I feel like The Pope I'm walkin' with heat, I Don't need no coat

I know I could get him, I don't need No hope think they get up on boof, You know I'm goin' blow

I ain't goin' for shit, tuck this bitch, In a show I ain't goin' for shit, you Know I'm goin' blow

I'm hoppin' out cars make it do what It do 2-Man, shit, I'll jump out a Coupe

He ain't got no B's, how he in the Booth I'll end his career, sit on his Stu'

I fuck with the 9, so I do it for blu I Was tappin' that blatt, I ain't know That it blew

Chase a nigga down, he fell out his Shoes Bumpin' that drac made Everybody move

Droppin' that shit, he just caught a Few Niggas gettin' clipped, don't Jump in this loop

Put him in a mix, cook him like its Stew, Confiscation Station…

Ight Come on

Put him in a mix, cook him like its Stew, Confiscation Station this ain't Nothing new, I'm really the coldest, Giving out the flu

Oh, they movin' loose, we gon' Come right through

Told her, line a move, better watch Your boo

Cause she tryna do me, told her, Play it cool

Back to the spot, 1942, got a model With me & a model with Boof

If I don't got no rapper, I get in my Mood

But they like the drink, so we gotta Few

I got a bottle for me, got a bottle for You

Tryna get me lit up, but I ain't Movin' loose

And they already know lil Keez he The coldest

Don't matter who it is, I come out My goose

I'm spinnin' in strikers I'm spinnin' In blows I'm spinnin' on opps, so it's Fuck my phone

I jump out in Amiri, I'm changin' My clothes I'm bendin' on blocks, I Ain't even been home

Soon as I walk in, she take a nigga Soul Soon I walk in, you know she Trying go

On some different shit, had to Switch up the flow I'm sippin' this Tris, this shit got me slow

Don't call me for shit, you know That it's sold Get hungry for pape', I Get in that mode

(I could play the bags, or I could Work the stove It's hot outside, left a Nigga cold)

(Give me seven days, get my wrist On froze Old ass money, I'll let it Mold)