URGENT! Lyrics – DC The Don
I’m working on dying (Go)
Tryna tell me I should never worry, worry
She only callin’ my phone in the nighttime if it’s urgent, urgent, yeah
I got my shades on ’cause them flashin’ lights make me nervous
Bitch, and I swear to God, I been workin’
Shit feeling too real and start hurtin’, hurtin’
SRT, let’s go, I been drivin’ too fast, she get nervous
Roll a blunt, bitch, I’m too gassed and start swervin’
Is you still ride or die or nah, what’s the verdict, verdict? (I don’t wanna lose control)
Park a motherfuckin’ parallel, it’s a Suburban
My new bitch got a bag now, this shit perfect
I can’t fuck with them broke hoes, I’m allergic, ‘lergic, yeah
We keep the sticks in the minivan, ho, we got racks in this bitch
They keep on tryna take pictures, I’m gettin’ harassed in this bitch
Balenciaga, it stay on my toes and Dior on my mask, lil’ bitch
And she making me feel like I’m paraplegic, I’m down to my last limb, bitch
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh (Grrah)
Bitch, don’t be askin’ me how I feel about it, how about it like
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh (Grrah)
Yeah, that’s self-explanatory, I been fucked up, and I’m right where you want me
(Where you want me)
Just let me know if you want me
(Just let me know if you want me)
We have the racks, bitch, I’m not kiddin’
Margiela madman, I keep spinnin’
And Margiela the backpack, I keep winnin’
And these Raf Simon jeans on me too fitted
‘Cause we having real meals, Thanksgiving
Like, fuck all these newer niggas, what’s the difference?
I’m like, fuck all these new hoes in my mentions
I see like two of those on my hit-list
Oh no, bae, that’s the real spill, I can’t feel it
We up in Vegas, on the top of buildings
Go do this show, I’m finna make a killin’
Like a dead-beat dad, I’m droppin’ off the ceilin’
‘Cause I woke up rich, I’m feelin’ like a million
Tryna tell me I should never worry, worry
She only callin’ my phone in the nighttime if it’s urgent, urgent, yeah
I got my shades on ’cause them flashin’ lights make me nervous
Bitch, and I swear to God, I been workin’
Shit feeling too real and start hurtin’, hurtin’
SRT, let’s go, I been drivin’ too fast, she get nervous
Roll a blunt, bitch, I’m too gassed and start swervin’
Is you still ride or die or nah, what’s the verdict, verdict?
Park a motherfuckin’ parallel, it’s a Suburban
My new bitch got a bag now, this shit perfect
I can’t fuck with them broke hoes, I’m allergic, ‘lergic, yeah
We keep the sticks in the minivan, ho, we got racks in this bitch
They keep on tryna take pictures, I’m gettin’ harassed in this bitch
Balenciaga it stay on my toes, and Dior on my mask, lil’ bitch
And she making me feel like I’m paraplegic, I’m down to my last limb, bitch