POPTHATRUNK - slowed + reverb

Bubble bath, and grip my .44 up off the dresser
Now I'm finna go up on a fuckin'
Spree, a fuckin' spree (dwilly, I'm scared)
Bubble bath, and grip my .44 up off the dresser
Now I'm finna go up on a fuckin' spree, spree, spree, spree (Ayy, ayy)

I might shoot it, get the .44 and pop the trunk
Like, what the fuck? These bitches goofy, do
The most, but fuck it, but fuck it
Runnin', poppin' 'cause I know he wanna try to do shit
Pistol got it, watch it, stoppin' bullets, .30
Keep it in, can't stop (Ayy, ayy)

I cannot leave a trace, but I think I gotta go
Spillin' blood, it's a race and I'm always needin' more
Homicide on my mind, why you think you 'bout to die?
See the Freddie in your room and you're 'bout to meet the doom

Pop it, rock it, suck it
Walk his thirty bullets knock I've got it
Pop it, rock it, shuck 'em, hundred bands up in my wallet
He be talkin', talkin', talkin', take the
Money from his pockets
Pistol got it, watch it, stop it, watch it, watch it
Where you walkin', lil' bitch
I don't wanna fuck, I don't wanna fuck sticks
Pop it out the trunk, pop it out the trunk, kiss
Own this .44, I bring the magazine
The paper coming up, the blue and green is
What you lackin'

I might shoot it, get the .44 and pop the trunk
Like, what the fuck? These bitches goofy
Do the most, but fuck it, but fuck it
Runnin', poppin' 'cause I know he wanna try to do shit
Pistol got it, watch it, stoppin'
Bullets, .30 keep it in, can't stop (Ayy, ayy)

I cannot leave a trace, but I think I gotta go
Spillin' blood, it's a race and I'm always needin' more
Homicide on my mind, why you think you 'bout to die?
See the Freddie in your room and you're 'bout to meet the doom

Ro-rock steady, Glock heavy, I just wanna get it goin'
Speedin' down, now get a grip
Where's my gun? It's on my hip
Off the rip, I just wanna break it down and make it flip
On your block, I'm about to pop it off and make you flop
Get it off the get-go, I need more money, oh no
I rob the plug and do the dash and
Hit the gas and almost crash
They never see me coming, I just took 'em by surprise
Little did he even know, he's about to meet demise (Ayy)

I might shoot it, get the .44 and pop the trunk
Like, what the fuck? These bitches goofy, do
The most, but fuck it, but fuck it
Runnin', poppin' 'cause I know he wanna try to do shit
Pistol got it, watch it, stoppin'
Bullets, .30 keep it in, can't stop (Ayy, ayy)

I cannot leave a trace, but I think I gotta go
Spillin' blood, it's a race and I'm always needin' more
Homicide on my mind, why you think you 'bout to die?
See the Freddie in your room and
You're 'bout to meet the doom

Pop it, pop it, pop it, pop it, pop it, pop it, pop it, now I'm
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop, spree
Pop it, pop it, pop it, pop it, pop it, pop it, now I'm
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop, spree-spree



Credits
Writer(s): Ryan Chassels, Derrick Dewayne Hill, David Bradley Jr Wilson, Nathan Fuller
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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