Big Foot

Album: single release only (2024)
Charted: 56 23
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  • Your flow is such a bore
    Drinkin' a bottle of Henny through a straw
    Bitch, you better stop that dialogue
    'Fore I hit Carl and buy your catalogue
    Sigh
    How you fuck your mother man when she die?
    How you go on Gayle King and can't cry?
    Chile, bye
    Big foot, but you still a small fry
    Swearin' on your dead mother when you lie (ay, yo)

    This lil beggin' whore talkin' 'bout Megan's law
    For a free beat, you could hit Megan raw (ooh)
    If you a ghost writer, Pardi in Megan's jaw (ooh)
    Shots thrown, but I still ain't let Megan score (tell 'em)
    Bad bitch, she like six foot (ooh), I call her Big Foot (brr)
    The bitch fell off, I said, "Get up on your good foot"
    Uh, still ain't topped Red Ruby (no, no, mm-mm)
    Tryna steal the sauce, I said, "Get up out my cook book" (brr)
    But really, I'm a sweetie pie
    P-R-T-T-Y, but I'm P-E-T-T-Y
    Um, why did you lie about your lipo?
    Fuckin' you best friend man is crazy, you the type, though
    You was lyin' to the Queen, then you went lyin' to the King, Gayle
    That thirty-year-old tea, so stale
    Kylie kicked you out and made you stumble to the car
    Barbz, I need a good alcohol bar
    Roman, wait, that was the bar
    Like a body builder, I keep raisin' the bar
    Fuck you get shot with no scar? (Brr)
    This little piggy toxic, somebody adopt it
    Shit'll get dark like chocolate
    I'm 'bout to get up in your ass, bitch, clench (woo-ooh-ooh)
    Mm, yeah, sorta like French
    They got you all them Grammy's, but your flow's still a no
    What a Fiasco, Lupe
    Future made you pay
    She wanna party with DaBaby while rubbin' on Tory troupe
    I guess she needed Moneybaggs for them Trey Songz
    She G-Eazy, Carl made her crawl for it
    Yo, why the fuck you poke the Monsta?
    Fuckin' with Nicki, this year, hoe, I'm comin' like a porn star
    She just mad that no nigga ever loved her
    No nigga gon' stand ten toes behind her
    Is it my fault I got good vagin-er?
    Why the fuck is you humpin' on a minor?
    'Cause she was lyin' on your dead mama (ooh), on-on you dead mama (ah-ah-ah-ah)
    Lyin' on you dead mama (ooh-ooh), on-on you dead mama
    Lyin' on you dead mama (ooh-ooh), on-on you dead mama
    Lyin' on you, lyin', lyin', lyin', on-on you dead mama (brr, ooh)

    Now listen up, Big Foot
    You know I got a lotta tea
    I went easy on you
    Um (glass fragment foot ass, bitch)
    You know, whenever I meet a woman that would fuck her friend's man
    (And let your friend talk about your ex-friend baby on the internet)
    I know that (no, no) they have a very evil spirit
    Um (where my prayer warriors at?)
    I don't think you want the next installment of this song
    I know it's the most attention you've ever gotten
    One-flow hoe, but, uh, trust me
    If you don't apologize to your mama in twenty-four hours
    Shit gon' get uglier than KenBarbie, okay? Don't play
    Um, and also, I'd like to say
    To my supporters, I love you, may God bless you, you're amazing
    Um, all the good-pussy gyal dem too, yes
    But, I'm very serious
    Ho, the things that you've lied about
    Even pertaining to your mom
    (You don't want them out, okay?)
    Now, since you think it's funny to speak about people's families
    (We'll all join in)
    (We'll all play the reindeer games)
    Soon as your new nose heals
    And soon as your-
    Well, let's leave that for the second installment, rrr Writer/s: Denzel Butler, Joshua Goods, Onika Maraj
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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