Pudgy Lyrics – Smino
Ooh, oh
Ooh, ooh, oh
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(Haha, Childish Major)
Who in the truck with the pretty guts?
Pudgy ***, no tummy tuck
Got the city shook, mama look
*** glissy glossin’ it up in the back
‘Bout to break her back to some rap ***
Uzi vertebrae up like *** rate, up
Pearly gates
Reason number one is on the sun are
Trees and moons, and martyrs, authors
Right when neighbors callin’ me out, I came around the hardest (Oh)
Playin’ target practice, made the bad *** a target (Oh)
Darlin’, what’s you bargain? Let get it bustin’ like we Boston
Your *** all simp, blew his head like he Marge, damn
Damn, Atlanta made it, ‘Lanta made it (Ow)
Out the city in South beach, bought her nails, *** (Ow)
Mike Wazowski, got my eye on her
Pudgy, the *** got some power on it, like
Tell you somethin’
Who in the truck with the pretty guts?
Pudgy ***, no tummy tuck
Got the city shook, mama look
*** glissy glossin’ it up in the back
‘Bout to break her back to some rap ***
Uzi vertebrae up like *** rate, up
Pearly gates
I don’t know if I’ma get to pearly gates (Pearly gates)
Standin’ on top of the world, I’ma be like 7’8″ (Wow)
I wonder where my soul gon’ go until the devil says (No)
I might got eight different baby mamas in seven states (States)
I don’t care what you do in the day time, [and I better late][1:20?]
I don’t care what you do in my whip, take your shoes off, anime
I don’t drink no Henny, Casamigos be the better grade
I done put diamonds in my AP and it made me feel so late
And I got my momma a new home, it made me feel so great
Late better than ever, I feel like I’m greater than ever
Fight for this cheddar, the death get you jammed like vendetta
Who in the truck with the pretty guts?
Pudgy ***, no tummy tuck
Got the city shook, mama look
*** glissy glossin’ it up in the back
‘Bout to break her back to some rap ***
Uzi vertebrae up like *** rate, up
Pearly gates
Reason number one is on the sun are
Trees and moons, and martyrs, authors
Right when neighbors callin’ me out, I came around the hardest
Playin’ target practice, made the bad *** a target
Who you, bro? I don’t know you, ***, need to move over
Who smokin’? I’m on Mars right now, I feel like Bruno
Got eight pack, loud as drum, this *** deserve a drum roll
On your track, that could brag on brag on dumb hoes (It do)
But no niggas that be burnt out like that fronto (Uh-uh)
I’m so serious, I be better off boolin’ back on my own (Ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah)
Who in the truck with the—