SPRAY ft. Qari Lyrics

Deep inna south I was outside chiefin

Deep in her mouth she was down south eatin

Speaker so loud it'll drown out demons

Whatever you niggas is beefin' about

She said we should go out

Girl I'm out every weekend

Shit shorty I'm out everyday

Y'all niggas be out every play

I don't even be playin' no defense

Judy Angel, yea album onna way

Til then keep playin that weak shit

They want me come out and play

I'm finna pop out n spray

First time my pen touched pad in a minute

But I'm from around the way

Hot I stay

Judy Angel, Judy Beyoncé

Its a homecoming if its me on stage

Its some hoes coming when we leave off stage

You picked the wrong summer to piss me off, yea

Picked the wrong summer

Opps gon' need new names

New plans

Walked in like a blue nose

With a few hoes and some gemstones on my neck bones

I don't network, I'm a stepper

Got a alligator boot on

I look fresher than a newborn

Or a peppermint you chew on

I can't choose one

So every time I fuck I need like two of 'em

I don't think I need a new one

I get bored but I never flew one

Imma always find me something

Paris, Tokyo and Cuba

I'm in London, Rick the Ruler

I was born outwest like Twista

If its war Imma twist yo shit up

On the floor of this shit like sit ups

I'm the Lord, and the Prince and Bishop

Little bitch I don't need your friendship

If I go Imma need incentive

I got COVID, I need six inches

My soul in the sixth dimension

Imma smoke til I feel like one of Will Smith's kids

Let me smoke so I don't smoke one these niggas man

Poke one of these

Let me just poke fun at these niggas man

Whole country of hoes wantin' me

Whole country of niggas mad

Judy Angel, Judy diplomat

This ain't that

Seat down low with the windows cracked

Speakers blowin', heaters loaded

You don't know then please don't ask

You don't know it, we don't know it

All I know is stress and cash

Really gave you a long time to figure this out

Now I gotta put belt to ass

He don't know me he don't know me

I'm finna leave welts and scabs

I'm Scott Van Pelt imma talk my shit even if the beat was bad

I'm Nick Van Exel real niggas'll tell you that Ju got the deepest bag

These niggas is sweet and sad

I'm a sour patch kid that'll never get sweet Imma just keep tweakin' bad

Left a lotta niggas leakin', bad

Rest the album is Judy Angel, right now this Judy Reaper

Just how I feel, I spill so real niggas think they got synesthesia

If you was real with yourself you would have to admit you cannot keep up

Baby boy I don't lose my breath

Baby boy

Baby boy I know you doin' ur best

Baby boy

Can you keep up