Rob49 & Birdman – Woedy Lyrics

Woedy Lyrics by Rob49 & Birdman

[Intro: Birdman]
Ayy, yeah, I’m good rocking like this shit up
Mm-hmm, got no problem, pussy-ass nigga, mm-mm
Ayy, yeah, you understand me?
This ain’t no O.T.T type shit, nigga, let’s get it poppin’

[Chorus: Rob49]
Yeah, I’m slidin’ expensive, I’m fuckin’ two new group of bitches, I’m blendin’ ’em in (I’m fuckin’ two new group of bitches, you hear?)
Shit, my trappin’ too real, I don’t care what I do, I’ll fly a bitch out to Miami (I’ll fly a bitch out to Miami)
“49, why you be flexin’ so much, got more chains on then your ancestors?” (Got more chains on then your ancestors)
I done took a thousand losses, no cap, I ain’t trippin’, I just wanna see my mans win (I ain’t trippin’, I just wanna see my mans win)

[Post-Chorus: Rob49]
Oh you got all the money? I know
You fuckin’ all the hoes, uh-huh
Heard you be sellin’ dope, uh-uh
I be sellin’ pounds, not rounds (Gang)
Oh, that’s bub? This is ‘za (Shit)
Hе want smoke, put him in a blunt (Yeah)
He got good smokе in his lungs (Yeah)
Hunnid round drum on the gun (Brrt)

[Verse 1: Rob49]
Nigga mad ’cause I’m richer then ’em (Yeah)
Like a ref’, bro too official
Beat the block like Mannie Fresher, beat the case like Johnnie Cochran
I was lowkey tryna minimize it
Rico Story like Speaker Knockerz (Brrt-brrt)
Drive the whip like Ricky Bobby (Grrt-grrt)
Keep it solid, don’t tell nobody (Uh-uh)

[Bridge: Rob49 & Birdman]
Boomin’ like the candy lady, woedy
I’m a real project baby, woedy
Snappin’ like an alligator, woedy
And she gon’ give that face up, woedy
Woedy, woedy, woedy, woedy (You know how I’m livin’, it ain’t no playing with none of you bitch-ass niggas)
Woedym woedy, woedy, woedy (Y’all gon’ get border-lined, we on that different side, on gang-gang)

[Verse 2: Rob49]
Yeah, baddie or not (Yeah), if you ain’t fuckin’ tonight, then I’m kickin’ you out (Then I’m kickin’ you out)
Yeah, cousin slingin’ that Vaseline, treat the burglar house like a gold mine (Yeah)
I ain’t even have no house, no cap, I was puttin’ my shit at my dog house (Puttin’ my shit at my dogs house)
And I wasn’t trippin’, cousin, know it took time to get my own spot (Yeah)

[Chorus: Rob49]
Yeah, I’m slidin’ expensive, I’m fuckin’ two new group of bitches, I’m blendin’ ’em in (I’m fuckin’ two new group of bitches, you hear?)
Shit, my trappin’ too real, I don’t care what I do, I’ll fly a bitch out to Miami (I’ll fly a bitch out to Miami)
“49, why you be flexin’ so much, got more chains on then your ancestors?” (Got more chains on then your ancestors)
I done took a thousand losses, no cap, I ain’t trippin’, I just wanna see my mans win (I ain’t trippin’, I just wanna see my mans win)

[Post-Chorus: Rob49 & Birdman]
Oh you got all the money? I know (Uh-huh)
You fuckin’ all the hoes, uh-huh
Heard you be sellin’ dope, uh-uh
I be sellin’ pounds, not rounds (Gang)
Oh, that’s bub? This is ‘za (Shit)
He want smoke, put him in a blunt (Fuck with us, we on that same shit)
He got good smoke in his lungs (Slime him out on that same ave)
Hunnid round drum on the gun (Yeah)
[Verse 3: Rob49]
Twenty holes like Savage ‘nem (Yeah), sellin’ weed at my mamma crib (Yeah)
Paint her face like super set (Yeah), how you lovin’ this goofy nigga? (Yeah)
You ain’t do what I think you did (Yeah), fifty cent, she fuck many men (Yeah)
Keep my heat, I don’t care what weather (Yeah), roaches all in my granny crib (Yeah)
I’ma fuck ’cause I ain’t her friend (Yeah), real money, I pay the bitch (Yeah)
No cap, I’ll buy a ho (Yeah), fly ’em back on a private jet (Yeah)
Real P like pot and pan (Yeah), niggas’ sweeter then cotton candy (Yeah)
Money taller then K Durant (For sure), trap house jumpin’ like Ja Morant (Shit)
He been sellin’ that Ku Klux Klan (Yeah), and he sellin’ that vulture pack
I guess he don’t play with tracks, he fell off, he still ain’t back (He still ain’t back)
I’ma press this engine until it bust, I’m tryna kill this bitch (I’m tryna beat her up, yeah, yeah)
I feel like a six of James Harden, I’m on my Philly shit (Yeah, yeah)

[Chorus: Rob49 & Birdman]
Yeah, I’m slidin’ expensive, I’m fuckin’ two new group of bitches, I’m blendin’ ’em in (You heard me? Mm-hmm)
Shit, my trappin’ too real, I don’t care what I do, I’ll fly a bitch out to Miami (I’ll fly a bitch out to Miami)
“49, why you be flexin’ so much, got more chains on then your ancestors?” (Got more chains on then your ancestors)
I done took a thousand losses, no cap, I ain’t trippin’, I just wanna see my mans win (You heard me? I ain’t trippin’, I just wanna see my mans win)

[Post-Chorus: Rob49 & Birdman]
Oh you got all the money? I know (Real rich nigga shit, boy)
You fuckin’ all the hoes, uh-huh (Stay in your lane, lil’ nigga)
Heard you be sellin’ dope, uh-uh (Fuck you talking ’bout, boy?)
I be sellin’ pounds, not rounds (Gang)
Oh, that’s bub? This is ‘za (Shit)
He want smoke, put him in a blunt (Yeah)
He got good smoke in his lungs (Yeah)
Hunnid round drum on the gun (Brrt)
[Outro: Birdman]
Real rich nigga shit, Stunna Man
That boy, blatt