Bird Call

Quack, quack

I’m chilling for an hour, smoking weed, watching Worldstar
Benz in the garage, probably got to drive your girl car (go)
You ain’t a rapper if my homies never heard y’all
I just spit a punchline, smile then they bird call (brr)
Hit your sister in the face with a Nerf Ball (ouch)
I’m dealing with some shit that really don’t concern y’all
Punch a fan if you get a fucking word wrong
I’m wavy, giving you some shit that you can surf on (cellphone)
Finding me a bitch I can swerve on(swerve on)
Frank Thomas homie, ‘bout to put the hurt on (hurt on)
Your bitch a night light in bed, she turned on
Roll some weed, tell her burn one

Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one
Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one

Yea, I used to give a fuck about success
Now I just want to see Mila Kunis undress
Hope she down for buttsex, it will be a cum fest
Sorry that’s some shit I had to confess
Crazy-ass bitch doing 911 threats
Came in the game smoking Newport Hundreds
Now I’m at the top and the crown fit, gold on my outfit
Surrounded by this pussy, I’mma drown in it
Got that wet pack, bitch come and give me that (give me that)
You know we want to know where them titties at (titties at)
Got ‘em gassed, they be asking what I’m cooking with
Have your little brother ask your moms what a pussy is?
Corruption, stunting at the function
Your girl pussy smell like Sour Cream & Onion (ugh)
Pay attention, you’ll learn something
Roll that weed up, burn one

Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one
Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one