Orlando Act 3 (Moocher vibes) Lyrics

Y'all got some serious-ass

Moocher vibes

I mean, I'm from Washington, D.C.

And we got Moochers on every fucking corner

Let me tell you what happened to me

We hanging out, chilling, having a great fucking time

And this girl's like

We should all go get something to eat

Now, mind you, we've been sitting out here for a minute

We all hungry as hell

So going to get something to eat is a great fucking idea

We get all the way to the restaurant

My stomach's just growling

That was his corolla, that motherfucker was gonna have

I don't even want to volunteer to be fucked up cars

I always want to volunteer to drive

So we get to the motherfucker

This motherfucker here says

oh, maybe food wasn't a good idea

I don't even have my money

Bitch

You knew

When your monkey ass said you was hungry

you had no fucking money

You got everybody all worked up

Let's go get some food

Y'all hungry, you hungry

I'm hungry, let's eat

This motherfucker right here, the audacity

You feel bad, this is a good idea

The niggas was hungry, but wasn't nobody gonna say shit

So what you do

Don't worry about it, I got you

And what they ask, too

I know this is a little expensive

but I'm gonna have

No, bitch

You gon' have something off the dollar menu

The fuck

Beggars cannot be choosy

That's why they made the saying, bitch

Oh my God

One of the most expensive thing on the goddamn menu

That wasn't that much of a good suggestion

Thank you, but no thanks, bitch

Living room comedy like never before

I got my son in private school

So I can be him when he's stepmother

Brings a whole new type of laughs

Yeah, fake laughs

The only issue was I was still married

I'm the writers if I think I'm funny

and I think I'm funny, too

This one time I was high shit at the drive-thru

At Taco Bell and I met this girl named Lasagna

That's it, I thought that was funny

It was just ironic

She had like this Italian-ass name

And this Mexican-ass restaurant

I still think I'm funny, but over time, simp

And this ghetto-ass Temple Hill's part of that

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I don't know about you, I just know I came to you

You ever catch a fight over Eastover

Don't smoke weed, it's addictive

And once you start, you can't stop

Unless you don't have money

But the only issue is once you've started smoking weed

you've tapped into this thing called psychosis

So when you don't have no money

Your psychosis is gonna wanna come around

Plug, check out Overtime Simps Psychosis

That's a really good song

But it's like you get super fucking creative

It's like, that's the reason why crackheads

Stay in business so long, you understand

Like, not having money ain't never stopped nobody

From getting what they needed

Hence, the moochers, you know what I mean

But for real, you be broke trying to figure out

How you gonna get it, first thing popping in your head

I could suck a dick, that's what she said

And what about the hoes that don't try to give you

The pussy till they done had about seven or eight drinks

They fucked up your whole self-esteem

You starting to wonder, am I ugly or something

What'd they do

After they drunk, come sliding in the room all butt naked

I may be drunk, but I'm ready

No, bitch, that's way, need to consent an hour ago

To give you all my love

No, bitch, don't get your ass in the Uber

And I'm not paying for it, get the fuck out of here

Put some clothes on

Titties all fucking on my floor and shit

Nigga's still here, though

You know that nigga Cosby would be like

You know, that just gets the woman in your sights

Oh, she can play with my puddin' paw-paw

Come here

Please fly me some ice, some ice

Can put you in the picture, dude

Come here

I asked for two aspirins

You gave me money

Hey, yo, it's my time

I'm smokin' on that purple, real niggas in my circle

My pockets on a thousand and my swag will get your girl too

Open up that girdle, my Ray-Bans on Steve Urkel

I own you like I wear a few Paula Tickin' in that fur coat

What you mean, ho, you ain't know

I'm cuttin' on the rug while she sniffin' on the snow

Line them up and let them go, remind me of Lindsay Lowe

Pissy drunk like house parties, 50 bottle zones