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    Текст песни Birdman - Pop Bottles


    Birdman - Pop Bottles
    Исполнитель Birdman
    Дата 20 сентябрь
    Категория: Тексты песен
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    Слова песни Birdman - Pop Bottles

    Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
    Look like I got on a championship ring
    Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
    I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah

    Okay start with straight shots and then pop bottles
    Pour it on the models, "shut up bitch, swallow!"
    If you can't swallow, shut up bitch gargle
    Straight up out that water with my Marc Jacobs goggles
    Fresher than a mother fucker, yep I'm a mother fucker
    No I won't take your girl, but I'll sure take her tongue from her
    Can't you tell I'm in love woman, like no other woman
    Oh I'm sorry sweetheart, I thought you were my other woman

    Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
    Look like I got on a championship ring
    Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
    I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah

    As I recline behind my desk
    I ain't got a lot of Nikes but I got a lot of checks
    Got my own shoe brand, new on the set
    Went from sittin' in a cell to sittin' on a jet
    From shittin' in a cell to shittin' on a jet
    I lost too many friends, but I won too many bets
    I made too much money, but I ain't make enough yet
    So I scratched and, yes, Jr. is the best
    So many niggas from my hood on they back
    So many niggas from your hood on they back
    That's why we so paid and it be like that
    I'd rather pop a bottle before I pop a Gat

    Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
    Look like I got on a championship ring
    Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
    I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah

    Yeah only sipping red champagne
    White tee red hat red bandanna
    Uptown, choppers for companions
    Fuckin' with the Birdman then we fuck up your companion
    Fuckin' with my son and we run up in your mansion
    Chopper make music, bitch start dancin'
    Stunna man back so you know the circumstances
    And I'm cookin' up the Carter 3, no advances
    All my cars automated, automatic
    No lie we don't even drive no Astons
    Uptown we packin' and we stackin'
    Young Money, Cash Money we the champions
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