Bird Call

Quack, quack

I'm chilling for an hour, smoking weed, watching Worldstar

Benz in the garage, probably got to drive your girl car

You ain't a rapper, my homies never heard y'all

I just spit a punchline, so now I need a bird call

Hit your sister in the face with a Nerf Ball

I'm dealing with some shit that really don't concern y'all

Punch a fan if you get a fucking word wrong

I'm wavy, get me some shit that you can surf on

Finding me a bitch I can swerve on

Frank Thomas homie, about to put the hurt on

Your bitch at night lie in bed, she turned on

Throw some weed, tell her burn one

Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one

Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one

Yea, I used to give a fuck about success

Now I just want to see Mila Kunis undress

Posted down for buttsex, it will be a cum fast

Sorry that's some shit I had to confess

Crazy ass bitch doing 911 threats

Came in the game smoking Newport Hundreds

Now I'm at the top and the crown fit

Gold on my outfit

Surrounded by this pussy, I'ma drown in

Got that wet pack, bitch come and give me that

You know we wanna know where them titties at

Got 'em gassed, they be asking what I'm cooking with

Have your little brother asking moms where the pussy is

Corruption, stuntin' at the function

Your girl pussy smell like Sour Cream & Onion

Pay attention, you'll learn something

Roll that weed up, burn one

Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one

Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one