Kishore Kumar Hits

Smino - New Coupe, Who Dis? (feat. Mick Jenkins) lyrics

Artist: Smino

album: New Coupe, Who Dis? (feat. Mick Jenkins)


Voulez-vous cou', we cut like filet mignon
Shia Lebouf give me nothin' but gold
Cold bitch she wet like Michigan
Fully loaded quesadilla
I work like a Mexican
Bad lil' hoe your trap by hoe
Ain't got a lotta tick can't talk right now
I pull up (creepin'), new coupe (beamin'), who dis? (schemin')
Watchin' TV in the headrest (this is automatic), lay down
I pull up (creepin'), new coupe (Bimmer), who dis? (schemin')
Watchin' TV in the headrest (what your lil ass be watchin'?), lay down
Killing these niggas stylistically is a crack rock for 'em
He speak facts with the Caps Lock on
Hit 'em in the purse
I know that swearing hurts worst, excuse my language
I know the truth sound like curse words, excuse my singing
I know that I may sound like hurt birds, all of these C-notes
Lazy I, fly plaid shirt, he look like Deebo
Lift a brick, came up out the dirt with my people
Ignorant, only 'cause you looking through a peephole
And I could peep game
You 'gon need some ski poles, tryna dig through these flows
Could avalanche, but refrain
What the fuck's a co-sign
That sound like a new fan
Fam I been in this shit
You acting like I just grew hands
Grip that bitch with two hands and blow off a limb in this bitch
Space coupe I feel like Invader Zim in this bitch
Pulled up in the black on black silk wrap like a new perm
Ten percent tints hope twelve don't U-turn
Way too much piff in these G-star
Lowkey pulling strings niggas speak bass guitar
Smino hit the sweet-talk, Mrs. Officer
I don't need
I don't need, I don't need, I don't need no co-sign
I got me
A lot on, a lot on, a lot on my, my mind
O-M-G
They say I beef, I done told 'em I'm refined
I don't need, I don't need, I don't need no co-sign
I got me
A lot on, a lot on, a lot on my, my mind
O-M-G
They say I beef, I done told 'em I'm refined
Reposition her, throw me that scalp
Throw me that, let me see you turn around
Deep conditioner, huh I'ma beat it till it pout
Brought my niggas out of dark place, 2 door
Cut the power I was couped up, no 2-door
Pay my cars I'm no uno, hands looking a lil fudo
Your bitch wanna kick it, she do judo
Give me the scalp, I want the new growth
Smi in your hoodie, just might pullover
All of your flowers, stroke your willow
Smokin' white widow with a widow
One of a cut or roll up two more (roll that shit up)
All in your stomach, yeah you know
Play instrumental on her menstrual
(This shit harder than a motherfucker, I like that)
Come back I can give you a lil bit more
It don't take much to keep my tempo
I don't indulge in extra info
I maximize on minimal
Freaky, she speaking french to her
Voulez-vous cou', we cut like filet mignon
Shia Lebouf give me nothin' but gold
Cold bitch she wet like Michigan
Fully loaded quesadilla
I work like a Mexican
Bad lil' hoe your trap by hoe
Ain't got a lotta tick can't talk right now
I pull up (creepin'), new coupe (beamin'), who dis? (schemin')
Watchin' TV in the headrest (this is automatic), lay down
I pull up (creepin'), new coupe (Bimmer), who dis? (schemin')
Watchin' TV in the headrest (what your lil ass be watchin'?)

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