Birds

(M-M-M-Murda)

I got them birds, sell me them birds

This is absurd, I got the purse

Sell me the purse, sell me the Cutlass

They look like nerds when it come to numbers

Bitch, I'm a nerd, I'm doin' numbers

Bitch, I got birds, I got 'em hummin'

I got 'em twerkin', I got 'em jumpin'

I got a seven, I got a bundle

I got a worker, I got a runner

She got a Birkin, I got my gun in it in case you lurkin'

First, she didn't fuck with Cocaine, she converted

I gave her too much of the Yay, she got nervous

I put my thumb in lil' bitch and she squirted

I put some beads on her waist and her girdle

I put that ho in the air on commercial

I sent her all the way down to the Turks

Tiger Woods in the Sunday clothes

I said, "Whole birds, I don't do wings, this ain't Buffalo, bitch"

Whole bunch of vultures, whole bunch of crows, bitch

I'm the Eagle Street, Russell Crowe and

I'm too cold to be a Hot Boy

And I got birds flyin' south, boy

Yeah, I'm too "Brrr" to be a Hot Boy

I got them birds by the flock, boy

Yeah, I'm too cold to be a Hot Boy

I'm too "Brrr" to be a Hot Boy

I make them birds sing like "Quack," boy

Free as a bird in the clouds, boy, yeah

I got them birds, birds

I got them birds, birds

I got them birds

I got them birds, furs

Get in my "Brrr," I made 'em, "Brrr, brrr"

All these girls, damn, I'm 'bout to serve

Yeah, I'm servin' them birds, ahead of the curve

Yeah, I'm 'bout to swerve, flag as red as a bird

All of these feathers, damn

All these treasures, remember to always measure

Always business, yeah, never pleasure

Remember, always, never

Wings stretchin', yeah

Both directions, yeah

Always flexin', charge him extra

I got Big Birds, you need Tweety, call Sylvester

Tiger Woods, I got birdies, dawg

If it's a drought, it snap my finger, all the birds gone fall

No discounts, fuck you mean? You talkin' bird shit, dawg

Number thirty-three Celtics jersey on, bitch

I'm too cold to be a Hot Boy

Got them birds flyin' south, boy

Yeah, I'm too "Brrr" to be a Hot Boy

I got them birds by the flock, boy

Yeah, I'm too cold to be a Hot Boy

I'm too "Brrr" to be a Hot Boy

I got more birds than you got clout, boy

Free as a bird in the clouds, boy

I got them birds, sell me them birds

This is absurd, I got them purse

So many purse, so many colors

They look like nerds when it come to numbers

Bitch, I'm a nerd, I'm doin' numbers

Bitch, I got birds, I got 'em hummin'

I got 'em twerkin', I got 'em jumpin'

I got a servant, I got a butler

I got a worker, I got a runner

She got a Birkin, I got my gun in it in case you lurkin'

First, she didn't fuck with Cocaine, she converted

I gave her too much of the yay, she got nervous

I put my thumb in lil' bitch and she squirted

I put some birds on her waist and her girdle

I put that ho in the air on commercial

I sent her all the way down with them turkeys

Tiger Woods