PULL UP by GTEAM Lyrics
[Verse 1: Teyo]
Okay, praise God, Hallelujah
Hop off my dick bitch, I barely even knew ya'
The time gone, bitch I'm gone
From [?] to iPhone
I'm Grease bitch, bitch milestones
Got a dime send the rhinestones
We spit it in the phantom
I be going too dumb
I got us a temper
Step back like Kemba
I'm a bread winner
Woke in September
You can't catch me slippin'
I swear bitch like never!
[Bridge: Teyo]
Fuckin' weak baby that's too light
Hol' up wait a minute baby that's too tight yeah
Hol' up fella, that ain't right
Rockin' fake shit but that shit ain't tight
Fuckin' weak baby that's too light
Hol' up wait a minute baby that's too tight yeah
Fella over here, man that ain't right
Rockin' fake shit but that shit ain't tight
[Verse 2: Pretti Yung]
Baby sit that ass right over here
I need a new bitch, a new car, a new year
Baby I was once there whippin' up the sauce
But now I run the kitchen, yeah, I'm the big boss
Try to diss me but you're at a loss
'Cause I ain't dont shit wrong, while you done lots
Why you look so scared?
I'm on your left
Cause' park over to the right and hit you in the jaw, yeah
It's a good night and it's the last night
South of the south, yeah you know we got the TEC-9
And we rep the orange colour for the Seaford Line
And you gotta give pussy, it's your deadline
All you nerds talk hella shit online
But meet me in person, and see that I'm divine
That I'm divine
That I'm divine
That I'm divine
[Verse 3: xenon]
Trap Michael Jackson I'm a Smooth Criminal
See me sittin' on my car, that's a goat on a Lamb
See me sittin' on my car, honeys say "damn"
See me sittin' on my car, honeys say "damn"
Damn Daniel, back with the white Vans?
I be sellin' out shows in Kazakhstan
My songs been blowin' up like the Taliban
Ever since then, yeah, I became the man
Hol' up
Let me switch the flow up
I don't have AIDS but I got a Magic Johnson
Flow so clean it'll put you in a coffin
We the first rap group to ever get it poppin'
Spittin' so much facts, even Jesus calls me Prophet
Hit up all the banks, just to count up all my profit
Know my choppa gay, had to pull it out the closet
Count up all my bread, found it hard to close my wallet
Okay, praise God, Hallelujah
Hop off my dick bitch, I barely even knew ya'
The time gone, bitch I'm gone
From [?] to iPhone
I'm Grease bitch, bitch milestones
Got a dime send the rhinestones
We spit it in the phantom
I be going too dumb
I got us a temper
Step back like Kemba
I'm a bread winner
Woke in September
You can't catch me slippin'
I swear bitch like never!
[Bridge: Teyo]
Fuckin' weak baby that's too light
Hol' up wait a minute baby that's too tight yeah
Hol' up fella, that ain't right
Rockin' fake shit but that shit ain't tight
Fuckin' weak baby that's too light
Hol' up wait a minute baby that's too tight yeah
Fella over here, man that ain't right
Rockin' fake shit but that shit ain't tight
[Verse 2: Pretti Yung]
Baby sit that ass right over here
I need a new bitch, a new car, a new year
Baby I was once there whippin' up the sauce
But now I run the kitchen, yeah, I'm the big boss
Try to diss me but you're at a loss
'Cause I ain't dont shit wrong, while you done lots
Why you look so scared?
I'm on your left
Cause' park over to the right and hit you in the jaw, yeah
It's a good night and it's the last night
South of the south, yeah you know we got the TEC-9
And we rep the orange colour for the Seaford Line
And you gotta give pussy, it's your deadline
All you nerds talk hella shit online
But meet me in person, and see that I'm divine
That I'm divine
That I'm divine
That I'm divine
[Verse 3: xenon]
Trap Michael Jackson I'm a Smooth Criminal
See me sittin' on my car, that's a goat on a Lamb
See me sittin' on my car, honeys say "damn"
See me sittin' on my car, honeys say "damn"
Damn Daniel, back with the white Vans?
I be sellin' out shows in Kazakhstan
My songs been blowin' up like the Taliban
Ever since then, yeah, I became the man
Hol' up
Let me switch the flow up
I don't have AIDS but I got a Magic Johnson
Flow so clean it'll put you in a coffin
We the first rap group to ever get it poppin'
Spittin' so much facts, even Jesus calls me Prophet
Hit up all the banks, just to count up all my profit
Know my choppa gay, had to pull it out the closet
Count up all my bread, found it hard to close my wallet