Kyrie Lyrics

I should've went and joined the pros

Make 'em squirt more then they

Rose

Catch me, mmm, yeah

Ballin like the nba, I should've went and joined the pros

Bitches call me flower boy I make em squirt more then they rose

I treat my hoes like they all dogs, I slut walk em, Amber Rose

Louis suit for the Met Gala, catch me hoping out the rolls

Yeah catch me hoping out the phantom

Thirty shots up in glock, we knocking off yo bandana

All this fredo in my pockets rip to Santana

Cross the country, making plays i'm stacking up Montana

I'm moving state to state

Been grinding all my life like Tony Hawk but I ain't neva skate

I'm getting to this money everyday, my pockets doing great

Lil dev the real top g up in this shit don't know who andrew tate

In the booth, I light the boof, I feel like Kyrie with the sage

You ain't nowhere in my book, so how we on the same page

My shooter riding shotgun, in his lap a twelve gauge

Every show a twenty piece, nah ion do minimum wage

I feel like Jony Bones my only loss was cause myself

If I was down, I went and hustled, I ain't never needed help

These forty bullets smack you hard, I named my pistol daddy's belt

Hit that button by her stomach and watch lil shawty start to melt

Fake gangsta on the gram, these pussy's move like Ja Morant

I know why these boys hate me, cause I'm doing what they can't

I knew that she was fuckin how she rubbing on my pants

These fortys hit like line backer if we

Catch you on that slant

Catch me in the yams on Ocean Drive, I'm sliding in the Vette

Don't hit my phone if you gon talk bout anything besides a check

I use to hit on prizepicks, but this rap shit the biggest bet

So much money in the bank, my kids kids won't have to worry bout debt

She pop a perky to get activated

Pockets fat I'm doing good I know that all my exes hate it

Ripstick on these hoes, if they ain't fuckin, then you know I'm skating

Folks all in my phone talking bout, bro you know that we related

I guess that mean I'm coming up

These hoes looking at me like a free meal, but I ain't serving lunch

My mouth don't touch you hoes but for Ice Spice, I'll be the biggest munch

Don't up yo hands up at me because my glock gon be the first to punch

Two thousand dollar fit but this shit light, I'm going out to brunch

I'm standing 10 toes down and won't a single person make me budge

I'm flying in the Benz with middle fingers screaming fuck the judge

My bitch booty natural, don't mind a lil pudge

Been feeling like Lil Uzi, I swear all my friends are dead

Designer head to toe, the bottom of these shoes is red

We fucking in the car, don't want you laying in my bed

Could pull this beat apart but I know this shit gotta end

But I'm still going in

I'm puffing cherry welches out my blunt, like meet me at the rim

I cut the traction off on the coupes and imma make it spin

She ask me what's my name and who I am, I told that bitch I'm him

I told that bitch it's me

Can't shoot to shot me if ion think you pretty naturally

They mad at me,

Don't roll no skinny skimps my blunts be stuffed up to capacity

Like fuck this rap shit, I'm trynna run the fuckin galaxy, bitch, okay

Let's get this money, these bitches funny, I can't go out like no crash dummy, fasho