Timb Boots
Timb Boots

Nems - Timb Boots Lyrics

5
Timb Boots Music Video

Timb Boots Lyrics

Oops upside of ya head
I said oops upside of ya head
Boots to the side of ya dreads
Timb boots to the side of ya dreads
Oops upside of ya head
I said oops upside of ya head
Boots to the side of ya dreads
Timb boots to the side of ya dreads

Whooptie, you don't like me? Nigga, shoot me
Doin' donuts while wifey screamin' inside the hooptie
Hop yo pretty ass out this whip, go cop a loosie
Riker's Island bus the Bloods tried to recruit me
Walk down Mermaid Ave, they all salute me
You the type to go on tour and wife a groupie
Fuck KFC, my two piece absolutely
Will knock yo ass outta the screen nigga like "Whooptie!"
Wake up, little uzi
Wake up (Bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah, bang)
No vert, though
Leavin' em' murked, though
Hip-hop died, Gorilla rose from the dirt, though
Niggas out here rappin' in skirts, bro (Fuckin' ridiculous)
I will fuck you up
Out here fuckin' bitches with the mushroom cut
When you see me all you hear is, "Buck, buck, buck, buck", uh

Oops upside of ya head
I said oops upside of ya head
Boots to the side of ya dreads
Timb boots to the side of ya dreads
Oops upside of ya head
I said oops upside of ya head
Boots to the side of ya dreads
Timb boots to the side of ya dreads

Fuck all the glamour and glitz, I plan to get rich
I'm from Brooklyn but was never a fan of the Nets
Middle finger up, hand on my dick
You can catch me in Quebec speakin' French on the Canada strip
You pussy, ya man is a bitch
Shoot sideways, damage my wrist
Keep squeezing 'til the hammer go 'click'
Lettin off outta the van
Miss you, paralyzing ya man, Fuck Ya Lyfe, though
You ain't hear a rapper this nice in ya life, though
I'm lightin' up the streets like I'm dancing with Michael
Side note: You rappers on the 'Gram sellin' verses like you workin' for Geico (Fifty percent off)
I'm from the jungle where we dine off creatures
Tryna see a mill, can't survive off features
On the road to riches, we holla at the bitches
And run around like we K-9's off leashes

Oops upside of ya head
I said oops upside of ya head
Boots to the side of ya dreads
Timb boots to the side of ya dreads
Oops upside of ya head
I said oops upside of ya head
Boots to the side of ya dreads
Timb boots to the side of ya dreads
Shoot 'til all these rappers dead
(Brrt, bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah, bang)

Yo, deadass, B, I'm a deadass G
Timbs and FYL brand gettin' deadass flee
You out here sellin' reggies with them dead ass trees
Runnin' outta gas in your deadass V
Up to Brownsville on this deadass Newport
Coney Island, Brooklyn, I'm so deadass New York
Four years on the run, deadass serious
I ain't doin' another sentence, deadass period

Wake up little uzi, wake up
Wake up little uzi, wake up
Wake up little uzi, wake up
Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh
Fuck Yo Lyfe

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Fuck Ya Life
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Yo, fuckin' Nems, bro
Bro, it's Michael Anthony, bro
Yo, I need a fuckin' bag, bro
Julio's not pickin' up the fuckin' phone
I know that's your man
You know what I'm sayin'?
Like, c'mon, bro
Help me out, dude
Like, I'm fuckin', I'm like, my guts hurt, bro
I got the shakes, bro, come on, man
I need a hot bag, bro
I need some bundles
Hook me up, Nems, come on, man
Don't, don't, and don't call me back and say, "Fuck Ya Life", dude
I need a fuckin' b-, I need bundles, bro
My fuckin' guts hurt, bro, I'm sick, bro
C'mon, dude
The fuck?
Fuck Ya Life

Writer(s): Travis Doyle
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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