Wooh da Kid, Project Pat - Rude Boy lyrics
[Wooh da Kid, Project Pat - Rude Boy lyrics]
Blood clot, roll up blood clot weed right now
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up
Gun shots bangin' from the back block
My strap cocked up and down
Fiends running in and out the trap spot
Late at night
Don't get caught slipping better
Have your gun front a young boy off a pack
And he bound to run
FN, keep it fully loaded, I ain't flexing
I just went hard fucking Brittaney
And her best friend rude boy
I don't fuck with rude boy you food boy
We don't fuck with snake niggas we
Know you a geek boy
Blood clot, roll up blood clot weed right now
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up
Homicidal, must be suicidal
Running off this vital, desert rifle
We can get gangsta', like a disciple
Blacked out, with the strap out
Ran your fat mouth, to the wrong bitch
Gun in chest blew your back out
Dope sold to the young and old
Cup of purple code
Ferrarri swag play me like I'm slow
Put a fucking hole in his head
Now a shit bag what the nigga wearing
For the rest his life
But I tried to take his life
Blood clot, roll up blood clot weed right now
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up
Atlanta where I stay, ATL my home
North Jamaica Queens running through my bones
RIP dunk tatted on my face
808's quake 'tino drop the bass
Blood clot, rude boy, hurry roll the weed now
Rude boy
Wooh Da I'm the king with the fucking crown
High as fuck geeking like I'm
Marley and my uncle Snoop try your luck
You gonna need an army just to fuck with Wooh
Blood clot, roll up blood clot weed right now
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up
Gun shots bangin' from the back block
My strap cocked up and down
Fiends running in and out the trap spot
Late at night
Don't get caught slipping better
Have your gun front a young boy off a pack
And he bound to run
FN, keep it fully loaded, I ain't flexing
I just went hard fucking Brittaney
And her best friend rude boy
I don't fuck with rude boy you food boy
We don't fuck with snake niggas we
Know you a geek boy
Blood clot, roll up blood clot weed right now
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up
Homicidal, must be suicidal
Running off this vital, desert rifle
We can get gangsta', like a disciple
Blacked out, with the strap out
Ran your fat mouth, to the wrong bitch
Gun in chest blew your back out
Dope sold to the young and old
Cup of purple code
Ferrarri swag play me like I'm slow
Put a fucking hole in his head
Now a shit bag what the nigga wearing
For the rest his life
But I tried to take his life
Blood clot, roll up blood clot weed right now
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up
Atlanta where I stay, ATL my home
North Jamaica Queens running through my bones
RIP dunk tatted on my face
808's quake 'tino drop the bass
Blood clot, rude boy, hurry roll the weed now
Rude boy
Wooh Da I'm the king with the fucking crown
High as fuck geeking like I'm
Marley and my uncle Snoop try your luck
You gonna need an army just to fuck with Wooh
Blood clot, roll up blood clot weed right now
Rude boy, don't be rude boy or get shot down
High as fuck geeking like I'm Marley bitch
Come try your luck homicide another track
Hurry put your lighters up