Swerve - Extended Version
Swerve - Extended Version

Uni-G - Swerve - Extended Version Lyrics

2
Swerve - Extended Version Music Video

Swerve - Extended Version Lyrics

Uh, I beat the beat up pronto
Beat it like a bongo
All these haters hating
I can't spot 'em, they like Waldo
They just chicken Roscoe
Excuse me, hold the waffle
Let the cross over Rondo
Turn they into a John Doe
I know G's outside of Congo
Baking cookies, no Milano
Messing with the grams, ain't, ain't, ain't talking Toronto
Deboe all them C-Notes, and I ain't talking Alphonso
Now watch 'em run-way no I do not see no models
Hit, Hit, Hit him with da Woo did someone order McDonalds
Cold chili akuma beads, I hit 'em with that combo
She surfboard on my rocket, and I ain't talking that Otto
The call me grey goose I got birds all on my bottle
Oh no, oh no, call my shorty Yoko Ono
She dress in designer linen and black and gold kimono
I hit 'em with the swerve, only ride solo
Tell them Dodjas keep it kicking, not allowed up in my Dojo
Uni

Oh, Oh, Oh now they wanna eat, tell them haters no
Oh now they wanna ride, tell them haters whoa
Oh now they think down, hit em with the curve
Oh now they think they lit, tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve

Swerve, Swerve, Swerve on em no Beemer
My steelo be on ether
I'm all bout them Franklins and I ain't talking Aretha
I wanna see my name in lights, ain't talking bout Taina
For the bills I got the Nina, you can ask my cousin Skeeter
I know G's from Puerto Rica
Take your wig off, no Madea
We tight like glue, and I ain't talking Queen Latifah
They messing with them cookies and I ain't talking no Keebler
I'm tryna have a can someone call Onika
Hit, hit , hit em with the did someone order fajitas
No, you do not get the picture, I ain't talking Mona Lisa
No, I do not know you, and I do not have amnesia
I said dust it off and try again, rest in peace Aaliyah
Got it, got it, I call her Gianni Versace
Body like Medusa and she chop it like hibachi
You messing with the champ Louisville Slugger
Nah, you messing with the god, you not allowed up in this supper
I'm out

Oh, Oh, Oh Oh now they wanna eat, tell them haters no
Oh now they wanna ride, tell them haters whoa
Oh now they think down, hit em with the curve
Oh now they think they lit, tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve
Tell them haters swerve

Writer(s): Gabriel Adjei-Gyamfi
Copyright(s): Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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