100 lyrics for "Pop, pop, pop, pop"
Wraaa Everybody get the fuck up Though many have come There will never be another one Wraaa Daddy gonna pop that trunk Yeah, battle ship sunk, throwing dirt rock chunks Sling shot rocks broke no money lumps Looking up too D boys with the pretty dunks
PlayPop, pop, pop I can rule the world I'm a prima donna Don't care who's around me I can fool the world So hand's up Catch this feeling There's no stopping this Right now in this moment
PlayI shot my baby down I know, he knows, I know Like when baby shot me down Ring, ring, ring, ring Pop, pop, pop, pop And that's the way My baby, my baby Baby, baby, baby That's the way
PlayGo gangsta, keep boppin' Like back when a nigga was clockin' Rock with me, let's get this bitch poppin' See, it's hard to be good, but easy to do evil And I ain't really into meeting with new people I don't know you, you don't know me You don't know the
PlayWhoah, the girl I love, she got long black wavy hair I do declare! The girl I love, yeah, she got long black wavy hair, Her mother and her father, lordy, They sure don't, sure don't allow me there. Well i, I'm goin? back to my baby, lord i, I swear I
PlayDiamond, diamond, diamond, diamonds on me dancing You doing me dirty Sipping on Dom Pérignon for no reason Popping tags, upper echelon for no reason Seen this bad little jawn, she was perfect I'll let her push the foreign right now if she worth it
PlayMy pretty little poppy You're like that lovely flower, so sweet and heavenly Since I found you My heart is wrapped around you And loving you it seems to beat a rhapsody The pretty little poppy Must copy its endearing charm from you Amapola, Amapola How I
PlayI don't want to be the man with the big head Never let me be the man with the big head I'd rather live John Burrow's life instead Of being the man with the big head Don't let me spend my career Wound up in a bell jar the pop star gone too far Don't let
PlayNiggas pistol popping like it's nineteen ninety nine I was nine maybe ten, then again never mind Press rewind, back in time before rappers dropping dimes Trap or die, choppin' pies with cliche's all in they rhymes That was Gucci, Prada and anything
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