Paparazzi Lyrics – Crm
Singer: Crm
Title: Paparazzi
Yeah, yeah, uh
Read All About It
Ayy, [You need some gas, shawty!
Ahem!
Pull up on ‘em, shut ‘em down, what’s that sound?
It’s the sound of me smokin’ that opp pack loud
Load up the clip, air it out
I’m so f#ckin’ high that my head in the clouds
Don’t try to turn your back on me
Or you will be dead by the time I’m done
Sorry that yo b#tch broke your heart
Now she givin’ me head in a Huracán
Gettin’ chased by the paparazzi
When I pull up to the afterparty
Sippin’ that Henny, mixed with Bacardi
Just wanna see you move your body
Step out the way when they see me walkin’
Piece of advice; proceed me with caution
Oh, you think I’m playin’?
Shut the f#ck up before I turn all yo kids to orphans
Shout out my guys in the streets [In the streets
They be outside with the team [With the team
Can’t let it slide, I’m a beast [I’m a beast
Can’t catch a vibe, then we leave [Then we leave
We just tryna stay alive [Stay alive
Ride through the city at night [City at night
They tryna create all this hype [All this hype
When that sh#t drops, that’s what they like [What they like
This is a loyalty check
If you see me rulin’, avoidin’ is best
If your life’s a movie, I’m spoilin’ the deaths
And bet I’m collectin’ that royalty check
Yeah this life, we don’t plan it the same
I want a planet to pass on the name
The guns that you packin’, don’t blast ‘em my way
Or a lot of shit’s gon’ happen today
I’m just f#ckin’ tired of these haters
That keep actin’ up
Now you sayin’ that you don’t want beef?
Man, that’s tough
Rappers sayin’ they better than me?
sh#t got me crackin’ up
They just mad, they broke
While my money stackin’ up! [It’s stackin’ up]
I’ve been countin’ up my bullets
I’ve been crossin’ names off my list
If they talk sh#t ‘bout my music
Swear to God, they gon’ get hit
I’ve been countin’ up my bullets
I’ve been crossin’ names off my list, [You need some gas, shawty!
If they talk sh#t ‘bout my music
Just make sure that you don’t slip
Pull up on ‘em, shut ‘em down, what’s that sound?
It’s the sound of me smokin’ that opp pack loud
Load up the clip, air it out
I’m so f#ckin’ high that my head in the clouds
Don’t try to turn your back on me
Or you will be dead by the time I’m done
Sorry that yo b#tch broke your heart
Now she givin’ me head in a Huracán
Gettin’ chased by the paparazzi
When I pull up to the afterparty
Sippin’ that Henny, mixed with Bacardi
Just wanna see you move your body
Step out the way when they see me walkin’
Piece of advice; proceed me with caution
Oh, you think I’m playin’?
Shut the f#ck up before I turn all yo kids to orphans
I don’t really give a f#ck
About none of that sh#t
f#ck all your opinions, b#tch, I’m winnin’
Why they wantin’ me to quit?
Do want I want, don’t need your tips
[I waited three years for this?
Stop callin’ my phone, talkin’ trash
‘Cause I don’t really believe that sh#t!
Blowin’ her back out, tryna get it back in
Everywhere I go, I’m the main attraction
People surprised that I’m from the land down under
‘Cause I don’t even have the accent [Ya f#ckin’ cunts
Try f#ck around, that’s a bad move
Takin’ over the game, yeah, I had to
This choppa gon’ no-clip you outta reality
Send you to the muhf#ckin’ backrooms!
I’ve been countin’ up my bullets
I’ve been crossin’ names off my list
If they talk sh#t ‘bout my music
Swear to God, they gon’ get hit
I’ve been countin’ up my bullets
I’ve been crossin’ names off my list, [You need some gas, shawty!
If they talk sh#t ‘bout my music
Just make sure that you don’t slip
Pull up on ‘em, shut ‘em down, what’s that sound?
It’s the sound of me smokin’ that opp pack loud
Load up the clip, air it out
I’m so f#ckin’ high that my head in the clouds
Don’t try to turn your back on me
Or you will be dead by the time I’m done
Sorry that yo b#tch broke your heart
Now she givin’ me head in a Huracán
Gettin’ chased by the paparazzi
When I pull up to the afterparty
Sippin’ that Henny, mixed with Bacardi
Just wanna see you move your body
Step out the way when they see me walkin’
Piece of advice; proceed me with caution
Oh, you think I’m playin’?
Shut the f#ck up before I turn all yo kids to orphans
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Lyrics Crm – Paparazzi
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