Whaddup Doe

You know why you came
Why you wanna play these games?
Don't be on that lame shit girl
Tell them hoes you came with

I pull up in the motherfuckin' coupe (In the coupe)
All these bitches come around me, chicken coop (Chicken, yeah)
I got 'em poppin' pussy, Uncle Luke (Uncle Luke)
Everyday I live like it's a videoshoot (London On Da Track, bitch)
Ooh, she know what she doin' (What she doin')
Ooh, she turn out for the crew (The crew)
I don't want them dollar bills, not the newest (Newest)
Ain't no tellin' what she gon' do for the blue ones
Sippin' lean like it's some berry Ciroc (Like it's Ciroc, nigga)
Feelin' presidential like I'm Barack (Like I'm Barack, nigga)
Bottles comin' 'til I tell 'em to stop (Yeah)
Hold up, wait, stop
So much money that I don't know what to do with it
Still spendin' old money on these new bitches
Long as you keep dancin' like that
I'ma throw it, pop that pussy, now throw that ass back (Baow, baow)

Don't be on that lame shit
Don't be on that lame shit
Tell them hoes you came with the same shit
Don't be on that lame shit
The wrong one to play them games with, girl

What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (Don't be actin' lame)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (You know why you came)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (Why you wanna play these games?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
Don't be on that lame shit

Hey, I'm blowin' doadie with the homies
I ain't have no money, ain't none of the hoes know me
And now my denims is full of the dirty doughy
You really 'bout a bag, lil' baby, you gotta show me
I'll pull up on my lonely, where ya at?
Pull this thing over and thunder you from the back, ayy
I made a quarter million in the trap
I'm not a rap nigga, just kinda know how to rap
The hooker finna overnight the pack
It'll be there in the mornin', just tell lil' whoadie relax
Yeah, bust it open for me, make it clap
I'ma throw a hundred ones, then tell her to run 'em back

Don't be on that lame shit
Don't be on that lame shit
Tell them hoes you came with the same shit
Don't be on that lame shit
The wrong one to play them games with, girl

What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (Don't be actin' lame)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (You know why you came)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (Why you wanna play these games?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
What up, though? (What up, though?)
Don't be on that lame shit (Yeah)



Credits
Writer(s): London Holmes, Timothy Patterson, Derez Lenard, Aubrey Robinson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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