Push Ups

Album: released as a single (2024)
Charted: 14 17
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  • (Whoo Kid)
    Ayy

    I could never be nobody number-one fan
    Your first number one, I had to put it in your hand
    You pussies can't get booked outside America for nan'
    I'm out in Tokyo because I'm big in Japan
    I'm the hitmaker y'all depend on
    Backstage, in my city, it was friend zone
    You won't ever take no chain off of us
    How the fuck you big steppin' with a size seven men's on?
    This the bark with the bite, nigga, what's up?
    I know my picture on the wall when y'all cook up
    Extortion baby, whole career, you been shook up
    'Cause Top told you drop and give me fifty like some push-ups, huh
    Your last one bricked, you really not on shit
    They make excuses for you 'cause they hate to see me lit
    Pull your contract 'cause we gotta see the split
    The way you doin' splits, bitch, your pants might rip
    You better do that motherfuckin' show inside the bitty
    Maroon 5 need a verse, you better make it witty
    Then we need a verse for the Swifties
    Top say drop, you better drop and give 'em fifty
    Pipsqueak, pipe down
    You ain't in no big three, SZA got you wiped down
    Travis got you wiped down, Savage got you wiped down
    Like your label, boy, you in the scope right now
    And you gon' feel the aftermath of what I write down
    I'm at the top of the mountain, so you tight now
    Just to have this talk with your ass, I had to hike down
    Big difference between Mike then and Mike now
    What the fuck is this, a 20-v-1, nigga?
    What's a prince to a king? He a son, nigga
    Get more love in the city that you from, nigga
    Metro, shut your ho-ass up and make some drums, nigga
    Yeah, I'm the 6ix god, I'm the frontrunner
    Y'all nigga manager was Chubbs' lil' blunt runner
    Claim the 6ix, and you boys ain't even come from it
    And when you boys got rich, you had to run from it
    Cash blowin' Abel bread, out here trickin' (out here trickin')
    Shit we do for bitches, he doin' for niggas (what the fuck?)
    Jets, whips, chains, wicked, wicked, wicked (wicked, wicked)
    Spend it like you tryna fuck, boy, you trippin', boy, you trippin'
    Drizzy Chip 'n Dale, probably got your bitch Chanel
    I just got 'em done, boy, don't make me have to chip a nail
    Rolling Loud stage, y'all were turnt, that was slick as hell
    Shit'll probably change if his BM start to kiss and tell
    Hugs and kisses, man, don't tell me 'bout no switches
    I'll be rockin' every fuckin' chain I own next visit, ayy
    I be with some bodyguards like Whitney
    Top say drop, your little midget-ass better fuckin'

    Ayy, better drop and give me fifty, ayy
    Drop and give me fifty, drop and give me fifty, ayy
    Niggas really got me out here talkin' like I'm 50, ayy
    Niggas really got me out here rappin' what I'm livin'

    I might take your latest girl and cuff her like I'm Ricky
    Can't believe he jumpin' in, this nigga turnin' fifty
    Every song that made it on the chart, he got from Drizzy
    Spend that lil' check you got and stay up out my business
    Nigga, shoutout to the hooper that be bustin' out the griddy
    We know why you mad, nigga, I ain't even trippin'
    All that lil' heartbroken Twitter shit for bitches
    This for all the top dogs, drop and give me fifty, drop, drop
    And that fuckin' song y'all got did not start the beef with us
    This shit been brewin' in a pot, now I'm heatin' up
    I don't care what Cole think, that Dot shit was weak as fuck
    Champagne trippin', he is not fuckin' easin' up
    Nigga calling Top to see if Top wanna piece it up
    "Top, wanna piece it up? Top, wanna piece it up?"
    Nah, pussy, now you on your own when you speakin' up
    You done rolled deep to this, it's not fuckin' deep enough
    Beggin' Kai Cenat, boy, you not fuckin' beatin' us
    Numbers-wise, I'm outta here, you not fuckin' creepin' up
    Money-wise, I'm outta here, you not fuckin' sneakin' up
    Cornball, your show money merch money fee to us
    I'ma let you niggas work it out because I seen enough
    This ain't even everything I know, don't wake the demon up
    This ain't even everything I know, don't wake the demon up
    Drop and give me fifty, all you fuck niggas teamin' up

    What top five you smokin' on, Kendrick?

    Hm, hm, yeah
    Drop, drop, drop, drop
    Drop a fifty bag for the mob in the spot
    Drop a fifty bag, twenty-nine for the thot
    Uh, I was really, really tryna keep it PG Writer/s: Amir Sims, Aubrey Graham, Matthew Samuels, Noel Cadastre, Scotty L. Coleman
    Publisher: BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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