POP SMOKE
POP SMOKE - MAKE IT RAIN ft. Rowdy Rebel (Official Lyric Video)
updated
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
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Director: Nabil
Production Company: Happy Place, Inc.
Executive Producer: Tara Razavi
Producer: Melissa Larsen
Production Manager: Jeremiah Zazueta
Production Coordinator: Joey Mendez / Michal Zielinski
Happy Place Coordinator: Alyssa Craig, Isabel Dominguez
Video Commissioner: Katie Dolan
1st AD: Julia Zsolnay
2nd AD: Robert Torres
Director of Photography: MacGregor
1st AC: Jorge Devotto / Alvaro Navarro
2nd AC: George Arevalo
Art Director: Debra Echard
Art Assistants: Maya Jenson / Albert Lopez / Chiara Matthews
Set Dresser: Montana Bertoletti / Angel Islas / Oliver Johnson / Giovanni Palacino / Colin Phegley / Martin Viola / Christopher Wall
Paintings by: Ricardo Edwarda
Key Grip: Steve Dorman / Ron Tondreau
Grip: Oscar A. Matute / Eric Yahraus
Gaffer: Sean Ginn
Best Boy Electric: Sean Smith
Electric: Daniel Chavez / Miguel Fernandez
Key Make-Up: Marcela Osegueda
Make-Up Assistant: Rosie Sanchez
Key Hair: Sharif Poston
Hair Assistant: Adrejhono Lewis
Stylist: Joanna David
Stylist Assistants: Jessica Joelson / Melanie Lund
Post Supervisor: Tony Stackhouse
Post Coordinator: Jonathan Kimmel
Editor: Greg Scruton
Color: Matt Osborne
VFX/Beauty: Olga Petrishena // Digitalaxis
SFX: Quinton Farina
Post PA: Damian Giampietro
DIT: Daniel Woiwode
Sound Mix: Jamie Hardt
Animal Handler: Christine Claes / Kelli Fulco
Truck PAs: Steven Almanza / Adrien Morales / Rafael Rodriquez
Van PAs: Munkhbat Noorovsambuu / Conner Piers
PAs: Josh Brent / Jenny Choi / Julia Choi / Delvin Glymph / Ismael Guzman / Mark Lee / Angel Pineda
Lyrics:
I’m feeling on your baba treesha Shorty said she like my demeanor And she look like a eater
I’m off the perky geekin
(x2)
Wait, wait, oh wait Oooh, Ooohh
Fish bowl send shots
Bend blocks in the back
Earthquakes and selling cracks
All my niggas into that
You send a shot we send it back
All facts no cap
Put my hat to the back
100,000 in the bag
$11 an hour ain’t enough to live
So I’ma go in every store and I’ma swipe this shit They try to lock a nigga up and I’m like fuck a bid Cause either way, mommy still gon’ love her kid
I just took 20 from the city they like who is you
A lot of niggas talking shit that they don’t really do
I’m bout to turn my Air Force ones into a Gucci shoe
I’m about to turn my Timberlands into a Yeezy boot
My president black, bandana is blue
Yeah I’m dripping got me glistening like I came out the pool I’m so exotic like I came out the zoo, but I shot out the coupe I got a scope with a clear eye view, woo
I’m feeling on your baba treesha Shorty said she like my demeanor And she look like a eater
I’m off the perky geekin
(x2)
Wait, wait, oh wait
My Demeanor is meaner than yours Oooh, Ooohh
Female alpha and I practice what I preach I devour, tell me can you take the heat You can touch with your eyes only
I know you like what you see
That Je Ne Sais Quoi energy Baby get on your knees
You can’t say Pop without Smoke
So fill up your lungs my diamonds will make ya choke
You like the way I move my demeanor is meaner than yours So clap for the encore
You can’t say Pop without Smoke
So fill up your lungs my diamonds will make ya choke
You like the way I move my demeanor is meaner than yours So clap for the encore
I’m feeling on your baba treesha Shorty said she like my demeanor And she look like a eater
I’m off the perky geekin
(x2)
Wait, wait, oh wait
My Demeanor is meaner than yours Oooh, Ooohh
#PopSmoke #DuaLipa #Demeanor #Faith
Lyrics:
Look
Pull up, what’s crackin’ Pull up, what happen
A lot guns and automatics A lot guns and automatics (x2)
Tell my shooters call me Facetime Cause we already done face time
Free D Nice he doin’ state time
You need the blicky, you could take mine Baby, yee I’m ridin’ for my baby
One there, two there
Yeah we wildin up in Macy’s
You ain’t getting’ bread cause you lazy You call the cops and he gon’ raid me Nino cooler than a cooler he still the ooter He don’t settle for nothin’
Bluffin’, pussy boy stop all that bluffin’
Run Ricky, yeah he runnin’
Run Ricky, yeah he runnin’
Back out, Brush em
Got some niggas that shoot you for nothin’ No politicin’, no discussion
No politicin’, no discussion
G’d, you ain’t gettin’ bread nigga G’d you Big nappy blue, that boy evil
Big nappy blue, that boy evil
Pull up, what’s crackin’ Pull up, what happen
A lot guns and automatics A lot guns and automatics Pull up, what’s crackin’ Pull up, what happen
A lot guns and automatics A lot guns and automatics
Pull up what happened
Pick up that fire and I’m blastin’
There wasn’t no need to hit ‘em wit a ratchet
So fuck it I smack ‘em
It’s Takeoff the rocket and I’m wit the Woo, bitch, we everlastin’ I got a starting five that be natural
And the bench be plastic
Whippin’ that, that come with that
While I be swervin’ in traffic
And the opposition better not
‘Cause they know what’s gon happen
Talk to that boy, he on Facetime
Heard he got heaters so flatline
Don’t know what you do ‘bout yours
But I’mma go Kanye ‘bout mine
My drill too cold, you catchin’ pneumonia
I took the beat and I gave it Corona
Send me the drop and my niggas be on ya
All in for God, now show my opponent
Ain’t no complainin’ ‘bout makin’ a bad boy
You gotta get it if you really want it
We be them niggas that fuck up the city
They know us for clapping out all our opponents
Pull up, what’s crackin’ Pull up, what happen
A lot guns and automatics A lot guns and automatics Pull up, what’s crackin’ Pull up, what happen
A lot guns and automatics A lot guns and automatics
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
My momma tell me be careful, better stay out them projects Better watch for them haters, you never know who be watching Talk less and do more, you never know who be talking
And if you up up that chop, you better aim for your target
I up and squeeze on the pussy ass opposition
Cops asking me these questions: “I don’t know nothing”
Hit that nigga up get through the back door
My momma tell me be careful, better stay out them projects Better watch for them haters, you never know who be watching Talk less and do more, you never know who be talking
And if you up up that chop, you better aim for your target
Stay down on the north stay down
Too much more don’t know what it’s bout
We was the first ones out the hood
We brought that shit back to the house it look good Inside the mud inside the rain, no more pain
I had the 100 round drum just for shit that look strange
I had to kick through some doors just to ice out the chain
We had to fuck a few hoes since they claimin they gang
Jumped off to pull some chains doubled back and they came Huncho hustle mentality just like Kobe with rings
I don’t wanna mention names but some can’t even hang
One thing I learned about this game that it’s gonna show if you lame Huncho and Pop Smoke yeah we turning the page
I don’t know but it feel like we go back in the day
I put food on the table niggas won’t touch my plate
Momma let me go outside but I ain’t out here tryna play
My momma tell me be careful, better stay out them projects Better watch for them haters, you never know who be watching Talk less and do more, you never know who be talking
And if you up up that chop, you better aim for your target
I up and squeeze on the pussy ass opposition
Cops asking me these questions: “I don’t know nothing”
Hit that nigga up get through the back door
My momma tell me be careful, better stay out them projects Better watch for them haters, you never know who be watching Talk less and do more, you never know who be talking
And if you up up that chop, you better aim for your target
I might be goin’ numb, I ain’t show love then it died within
My mind on so much drugs I think my sliders tryna slide on me
I bet none these rappers got more war stories than the He do
Every night I pray that my lil soldiers keep it Zeeko
I just wanna make a lot of money for my people
I just caught a case but I thank God it ain’t a RICO
Can’t stay out the hood I’m like a magnet to the projects
Every time I do good, Lord, all the bad shit be followin’
I don’t know who be hatin, ‘cause they still shakin’ hands
I don’t know who be fakin’, ‘cause they still shakin’ hands
I know everybody smiling in my face ain’t really my friends
I know niggas be hollerin’ like they gang but really gon’ bend
Bussin’ at the opps, and I’m duckin’ from the cops
‘Cause I’m still clutching glocks momma
I’m bussin at the opps cause everytime I try to stop, they be preying on my top, momma
My momma tell me be careful, better stay out them projects
Better watch for them haters, you never know who be watching Talk less and do more, you never know who be talking
And if you up up that chop, you better aim for your target
I up and squeeze on the pussy ass opposition
Cops asking me these questions: “I don’t know nothing” Hit that nigga up get through the back door
My momma tell me be careful, better stay out them projects Better watch for them haters, you never know who be watching
Talk less and do more, you never know who be talking And if you up up that chop, you better aim for your target
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
BIG 092MLBOA
GQ
You got a gun nigga, gun nigga
Me too
Brodie go what, brodie gon back out Brodie gon brush em
Brodie gon, Brodie gon, Rr
Dig in that Louie bag, Louie bag Nigga dig in that bag, duffel
Brodie gon back out cut ‘em
Brodie gon woo, I bet Moe gon shoot Said I’m big 092
Know that I’m woo
Don’t come to my block
We gon’ give him the boot
I keep me a glock, shoot out the roof Two 38s, 3 22s
Big NBA, we did it first
Watch what you say, you could get hurt
Fuck with my opps, they get it worse
My bitch got a chop, shit in her purse
Pull up with racks, don’t even trip
If I call stretch, empty the clip
Those not my opps, free Dano Brim
Fuck is a Notty, nigga a snitch
Don’t get put on a shirt
Watch niggas lurk
I keep a glock
When I’m in church
Spin through your block
Step on the clutch
Hit the boy up
Then I reverse
Brodie got locked for the chop
I lost four of my straps got to go get a fifth one
I be fucking on opp bitches kick em and pass em to Pop there’s too many to pick from
Ah, say that, I call a Ape or a Maybach I’m 823 I get straight cash
If you got that work I’mma take that
We pull up to houses and baby showers Woo from the floss we don’t play with ours You won’t ever catch me a day without it GDK and I don’t even play about it
Ah, Day Day
Have you screamin’ through mega like May day Who the fuck are you talkin’ to, crazy
If you don’t want no beef nigga, pay me
The fuck, if these niggas don’t get back Took a flight to LA got their shit whacked Take all the breesh I got big packs Shoot through the V make em sit back
Ah, rumble
Step on the field, watch ‘em crumble I’m so drip like I stepped in the puddle I back out I hit you and your uncle
Window down let the semi spit
Forty glock with a 50 clip
Get the addy then I get em hit
Had to shoot a nigga for a mixy bitch
Huh, Treesha
Shorty gon suck on my nina I pull up like Ace in a finas
I leave her shit wet Aquafina
And I got that pussy on fiji
If you got a gun come and meet me We spinning pull up with like three Vs
Opp treesha she dying to eat me
I don’t talk to niggas I don’t play with niggas
Got a bad bitch that’ll tase a nigga
Stone cold, blue flag, 09 to the A nigga woo back
Uh, the fuck wrong with dem pussy boy dem, eh? Dem talk 'bout bumbaclot Rah Swish and Pop Smoke, uh What da mean? Uh
Tell 'em pussy dey, "Go suck ya mada!" (Go suck ya mada)
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
I like mine Yummy yellow And that ass feel like jell-o Shorty lightskin and tatted Ass fat so I grabbed it
I gave her this dick and I lasted No rubber, no plastic
You know how to get right mama I gotta get my baby
She know my worth
Kissin on my jewels, fuck a nigga out his shirt
No time for holdin hands, she holdin my worth
Baby pop that pussy in everything but a Perc
I’m loving her good, makin sure she never hurt
She lickin my wood, never too classy to slurp
Look me in my eyes, when you tell me that it’s mine
Told her I’m too playa, I can’t fall for the lies
Ooh baby
That you a bad lil something and that ass, it drives me crazy And I swear that nothing else phase me
I like mine Yummy yellow And that ass feel like jell-o Shorty lightskin and tatted Ass fat so I grabbed it
I gave her this dick and I lasted No rubber, no plastic
You know how to get right mama I gotta get my baby
It’s Pop Smoke
She know my worth
Young flossy nigga, she know I’m in my Birk She zippin’ down my pants
I’m takin’ off her shirt
Kissin’ on my neck
Liftin’ up her skirt
I’m fuckin’ her good
Makin’ sure she come first
I had to get it in before she went to work All I need is weed and Henny
No chaser
Can’t nobody replace her
I like it when she make me miss her
She make it stand up like a missile, everytime that I kiss her You know its the thighs for me
White toes, sundress, make you cry for me
Ooh get you wet wet wet
Ooh bend your back like that
Ooh baby just like that
Didn’t know you can shake that ass like that
I like mine Yummy yellow And that ass feel like jell-o Shorty lightskin and tatted Ass fat so I grabbed it
I gave her this dick and I lasted No rubber, no plastic
You know how to get right mama I gotta get my baby
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
So how can I be anything I wanna be If I die in my dreams
It’s gonna be a manslaughter Or a homicide
If you fuckin’ with me
Or one of mines
(x2)
(Rick Ross)
So many problems I can kill with just a text
Not many barbers put a razor to my neck
So many fathers raises all is in the ‘jects
So when it come to opps, murder I expect
Pop Smoke, gun shot
Focused on one spot
White glove, dice game Wilt Chamberlain on the block The rain man, my stocks is one to watch
Carry a casket, a nigga carry some shots Bomboclaat, niggas in drop tops
I deserve to shine, labels turn to shrines
Still keepin’ it real, every word and line
Can I freeze the watch, you niggas burnin’ time
It’s gonna be a manslaughter Or a homicide
If you fuckin’ with me
Or one of mines
(x2)
Four door, hitters in the back Big body and it’s tinted black Politicin’ we ain’t into that
Smokin’ opps ‘til the clip end Forty karats on my wrist, damn Me and Dread into liftin’
Me and Dread into liftin’
(x2)
It’s gonna be a manslaughter Or a homicide
If you fuckin’ with me
Or one of mines
(x2)
(The Dream)
To my niggas make sure your debts is paid To my children make sure your bed get made To my girl I’m missing you these days
I’m missing you these days
(x2)
Funny the worst shit happens to the best of them Crazy how the best shit happens to the worst of them Oh nah nah nah nah nah nah
So how can I be anything (how can I be anything)
I wanna be (I just wanna be me, I just wanna be free) If I die in my dreams
Ohhhh
Hey
Just wanna fly free, I just want to be me
I just to live out all my dreams
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
This is Woo (Woo)
This is Crip
I’m the cuz
Gltttt Baow (Baow)
It’s 32 in the clip nigga (gllttt) Baow
Baow, Movie
Pop Smoke, Bizzy
Like
Duck, pass me the sitchy I’m clutch
Tell ‘em come spin my block
Tell ‘em come send them shots
You ain’t no shoota
You just tote that chop
You don’t want beef, you just want some pops I ain’t get touched, how you my opp?
Bitch I’m too sauced
No I don’t dance, the glock in my pants
The most I might do is the Woo walk (yeah) The most I might do is the Woo walk (yeah) And I know they mad
But please don’t act silly
If I spin in a black flag, they gon’ think I’m a dizzy
Bitch I’m a sleaze, give a fuck who you be
Yeah I fuck with them real niggas who fuckin with me Don’t ask if I’m GDK, nah
Nigga I’m EBK
Fuck the judge and the DEA
Suck dick if you feel a way
I’mma lil body but I talk like a big body
Cuz I put in that pain
I walk like a lil body but I back out that big body
If you speak on my name
These niggas know nothin’ bout me
But they gon’ keep talkin’ bout me
And that shit ain’t goin’ change
I been in the cell and
Ain’t shit you can tell me
If you ain’t got hands, invest in 11s
Toughest nigga in your squad gon be tellin’
The older niggas that be with me some felons
I really talk on the beats
If you not in the streets, you won’t understand it
I get the choppa, that nigga gon’ panic
Headshot, cause a whole lotta damage
Headshot, cause a whole lotta damage
Yeah I got Ruger with me, Leeky with me, bitch We don’t spin in no Ubers
And I got Rilla with me, Juju with me, bitch
We might hit ya medulla
You can’t get busy with me, jiggy with me Demon with me, hundo with me
First nigga actin’ silly, catch a figgy
Pass the glizzy and just watch how he run Watch how he
Duck, pass me the sitchy I’m clutch Tell ‘em come spin my block
Tell ‘em come send them shots
You ain’t no shoota
You just tote that chop
You don’t want beef, you just want some pops
I ain’t get touched, how you my opp?
Bitch I’m too sauced
No I don’t dance, the glock in my pants
The most I might do is the Woo walk
The most I might do is the Woo walk
And I know they mad (look)
But please don’t act silly
If I’m spinnin’ a black flag, they gon’ think I’m a dizzy
Tell that nigga to spin
That’s when the party begin
Yeah my glock full of sins
Bullet hit ya chin, I walk away grinnin’
If you drag my GK, then it’s fuck what you said Bizzy send shots where you lay
Bizzy send shots where you lay
Say I’m 823, sanctioned
Reach for my chain we gon spank em
I ain’t your regular gang member
Everybody know I’m sanctioned
If I step on the island we wylin’ out
I ain’t gon’ stop ‘til the guard is out
Free Psych Bike, free Ziggy Zah
My niggas raisin’ the body count
44 Bulldog nigga get back
I ain’t with the talk or the chitchat
Get your shit cracked
If I back up the chop, betta get back
Call Dread, that’s the new Tom Brady Niggas gettin’ no bread cause they lazy Tell Dread lift em, if that nigga talking crazy Now it’s fuck you pay me
Or bullets start blazing
Since I was young we invested in guns Now we lookin’ at the stars in the wraith While I’m gettin’ headed by your bae
She like papi I love how you taste She like papi can you nut
I’m like baby just wait
I told her to
Duck, pass me the sitchy I’m clutch Tell ‘em come spin my block
Tell ‘em come send them shots You ain’t no shoota
You just tote that chop
You don’t want beef, you just want some pops
I ain’t get touched, how you my opp?
Bitch I’m too sauced
No I don’t dance, the glock in my pants
The most I might do is the Woo walk
The most I might do is the Woo walk
And I know they mad
But please don’t act silly
If I spin in’ a black flag, they gon’ think I’m a dizzy
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
See we in Miami
We just left Mr. Jones
With a hundred bitches that’s down, ready to fuck
She said we wanna be a bartender, I’m like ya ass ain’t fat enough Before you get that, better go and get a tummy tuck
She like Papi can you give me 5500
I ain’t giving you shit unless you sucking all of us
She went upstairs and gave my lil homie some pussy
The lil nigga fucked around and got sprung
She came out the room like papi my ass hurt she just put up with mad work
You worried about the wrong thing that’s backwards it’s bout the cash first
When you down we roll up that sour break it down in the back girl
If I say that you mine that mean that you ours you can’t put me first that’s backwards
See we in Miami
We just left Mr. Jones
With a hundred bitches that’s down, ready to fuck
She said we wanna be a bartender, I’m like ya ass ain’t fat enough Before you get that, better go and get a tummy tuck
She like Papi can you give me 5500
I ain’t giving you shit unless you sucking all of us
She went upstairs and gave my lil homie some pussy
The lil nigga fucked around and got sprung
We in Skyami
Goin all the way up
Gotta hundred bitches in the VIP ready to go fuck Bitch came with no panties on
Bent over my coupe
Take Aventi to the jeweler
Drop a big bag on a bitch drip
Top of the penthouse
A personal shopper bringin’ fine threads can’t find in the store My bitch gon’ step on a bitch in Dior
Smokin’ out a pound, drink out the bottle
Mermaid, pussy taste like some water
Jimmy Choo shoe, Manolo Blahnik
Cop a new jewel just for the fun
Not the number two, shorty rewind
Wrapped in plastic then she found every one
Gotta smash every girl that I call
Makin’ all the drip got me on the moon
I be takin’ shit down like a tycoon
Outta solitary straight on patron
Change the temperature when I walk in the room
Take the baddest bitches out Mr. Jones
Take the baddest bitches out Mr. Jones
Take the baddest bitches out Mr. Jones
See we in Miami
We just left Mr. Jones
With a hundred bitches that’s down, ready to fuck
She said we wanna be a bartender, I’m like ya ass ain’t fat enough Before you get that, better go and get a tummy tuck
She like Papi can you give me 5500
I ain’t giving you shit unless you sucking all of us
She went upstairs and gave my lil homie some pussy
The lil nigga fucked around and got sprung
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
Hop out the coupe, swerving Gimme the loot, purgin Keep 22s, lurkin’
Woo, Woo, Woo, Woo
(x2)
Yeezy the boot, fashion
All this aggression look good in this fashion Point him out and imma tag him
Beat ‘em down and then I drag ‘em
Big nappy blue, burner
Wrap the boy up inna curtain
Brodie got one thing for sure
But papi got two things for certain
I got guns in the shack
I got guns in my bag
Don’t run in my crib
I put guns to ya head
Look
Will I shoot you nigga, prolly
It’s Pop Smoke, I’m movin’ hotty Big knockin’ on my body
Free Rowdy and free Bobby Yeah I’m 823
Big GSC
I had crack in my socks
I got guns in my brief
I give him hot shells like a taco
I’m big woo the flex nigga not cho And I’m still swerving from potholes And I’m still shootin’ at Tahoes
(x2)
Hop out the coupe, swerving Gimme the loot, purgin Keep 22s, lurkin’
(x4)
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
Beam:
Dilly dilly dilly woahy Skilly dilly dilly whoay Skilly dilly dilly why
A top boy a top shotta Unnuh nuh bad like we
A duppy maker like ghostbuster Grim party
Don’t think I’m playin’ nigga
I ain’t playin’ nigga
Tell him meet me in the lobby Will I shoot a nigga, prolly Bitch I’m a top shotta
Bad mon what
Talk for what
Shoot send shots
Shoot bend blocks blocks Don’t think I’m playin’ nigga I ain’t playin’ with em
Tell him meet me in the lobby
Fish bowl, send shot
Bend blocks, send ‘em back
All of my niggas be into that
Get to clappin’ niggas, get to slappin’ niggas Get to clippin niggas, get to switchin’ niggas Smack ya nigga, 7/11
I cannot work, no 9 to 5
‘Cause I’m trappin’ 24/7
I gotta get to the cash
I gotta get to the breesh
Send a nigga up to heaven, preach And I smoke that grade A
Shoot a nigga, J A
Don’t think I’m playin’ nigga
I ain’t playin’ nigga
Tell him meet me in the lobby Will I shoot a nigga, prolly Bitch I’m a top shotta
Bad mon what
Talk for what
Shoot send shots
Shoot bend blocks
Don’t think I’m playin’ nigga
I ain’t playin’ with em
Tell him meet me in the lobby
Beam:
Top shotta, top shotta
Boy dun run when they hear the choppa
Find the pussy pon the block
Grim party, real Top Shotta know the thing pon me Look at our trees in the grim party
Each a one a dem a fake a me
Top Shotta real, poppa, when it comes to family Rise the thing for me brudda
Member days were not nice
Hunger bust me to bite
African man, putting the work
Top Shotta, inna di night
How many many men wish death upon me Find them in the hideout
Dread head niggas in the lobby
We gon skrrt skrrt, Ricky Bobby
Tell him meet me in the lobby Will I shoot a nigga, prolly Bitch I’m a top shotta
Bad mon what
Talk for what
Shoot send shots
Shoot bend blocks blocks Don’t think I’m playin’ nigga
I ain’t playin’ with em
Tell him meet me in the lobby
Pusha:
Frank White God body
Teflon John Gotti
Dope boy Illuminati
Slick Rick with the Jewels
It’s the show, la-di-da-di
Got nothin’ else to prove
Shit I still catch a body
Wanna walk through my lobby? Get a brick from me prolly
It’s a hundred on a dolly
Willy Wonka to you Charlies I’m the soul and the spirit Cocaine’s Bob Marley
Dope boys don’t retire
Bad bitches won’t allow me All my rebels like rowdy
All my guns is like Saudis Four albums, four rings
Still could never do an Audi All my diamonds so clear
But my kitchen still cloudy Always had the best numbers I just waited ‘til they found me
Tell him meet me in the lobby Will I shoot a nigga, prolly Bitch I’m a top shotta
Bad mon what
Talk for what
Shoot send shots
Shoot bend blocks
Don’t think I’m playin’ nigga
I ain’t playin’ with em
Tell him meet me in the lobby
TRAV
Constantly stackin this paper
I dont got time for these haters
Nah
You talking to that Rollie wearing, God fearing, Cuban link, nine car paper tag Mister take your bitch and give her back
I aint tryna brag but a nigga bag yeah it’s different
I’m the big ticket
You got a Benz and I got a Benz, but they know the difference
Tell Pedro to send it
Throw a Michael Redd, Ima sell a bag for this Scottie Pippen
Yeah thats chicken, 11 points like I’m Kyrie
Who scared nigga not me
Young humble mixed with cocky
I know my young boys got me
I’m up next nigga watch me
Try warring with my posse
Move, groove, when you see me better Woo
Tell him meet me in the lobby Will I shoot a nigga, prolly Bitch I’m a top shotta
Bad mon what
Talk for what
Shoot send shots
Shoot bend blocks blocks Don’t think I’m playin’ nigga
I ain’t playin’ with em
Tell him meet me in the lobby
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
Hop out the coupe, swerving Gimme the loot, purgin Keep 22s, lurkin’
Woo, Woo, Woo, Woo
(x2)
Yeezy the boot, fashion
All this aggression look good in this fashion Point him out and imma tag him
Beat ‘em down and then I drag ‘em
Big nappy blue, burner
Wrap the boy up inna curtain
Brodie got one thing for sure
But papi got two things for certain
I got guns in the shack
I got guns in my bag
Don’t run in my crib
I put guns to ya head
Look
Will I shoot you nigga, prolly
It’s Pop Smoke, I’m movin’ hotty Big knockin’ on my body
Free Rowdy and free Bobby Yeah I’m 823
Big GSC
I had crack in my socks
I got guns in my brief
I give him hot shells like a taco
I’m big woo the flex nigga not cho And I’m still swerving from potholes And I’m still shootin’ at Tahoes
(x2)
Hop out the coupe, swerving Gimme the loot, purgin Keep 22s, lurkin’
(x4)
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry Wait
[Pop Laughing]
Druski
Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry
I said don’t get it twisted
Just cause I smile a lot don’t mean that I’m with the foolery
When I walk in my school, all the staff woo at me
I’m like “you used to tutor me”
I stay in the cut like a band-aid
And that’s where my shooters be
Run down, gun tucked, tool on me, tool on me
Rah Swish, Pop Smoke, they do not know what you started
I pop a perc go retarded, then mack up the rari, then fuck with my big brother Bari I’m rocking Louis V Louis V, cause I ain’t too pressed with Dior
No telling but I’m the Messiah now I’m the creator: I got the drip in my paws
I can not never, I could never kiss a whore
Fuck her life up then go up on tour
She know we up on the board
I got the 45 tucked in my drawers
They like “what’s on your ring?” 11 Carats
That come with a bad bitch and a mansion, and she from Paris
Merci Beaucoup
I ain’t got nothing to prove
It’s either you win or you lose
It’s either you win or you lose
And I don’t really care what your gang claim
All I know is my niggas is woo
Saucing, hol on, woos, I shoot a nigga out the coupe Wait
Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry Wait
[Pop Laughing]
Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry Catch an opp and I’m taking his jewelry
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
Look, Pop Smoke’ll beat the box Pop Smoke’ll beat the speaker Ice up on my neck Konika
Dot up on your head for reachin’ And I’m in a Bentley truck
Wit a bad bitch who eat up And I’m off the molly geekin’ And it’s 10K a feature
(x2)
AR when I walk through
25 for the walk through
Pussy boy watch who you talk to Say my name with a caution
I walk in the spot like who want it Gun to his head I put jewels on ‘em Get put on ya neck if team larkin
Talk out ya mouth and it’s still barkin’
These 750s got my heart racin’
Pick up and steal like I’m Paul Payton
Clipped him in vain, that’s a call waitin’
Said I aint with the foolery, I keep a tool on me Come out ya mouth, you could get hurt
Bro Trav, caught a man down Pop Smoke I’m the man now
Pop Smoke’ll beat the box
Pop Smoke’ll beat the speaker Ice up on my neck Konika
Dot up on your head for reachin’ And I’m in a Bentley truck
Wit a bad bitch who eat up
And I’m off the molly geekin’ And it’s 10K a feature
(x2)
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
I’m feeling on your baba treesha Shorty said she like my demeanor And she look like a eater
I’m off the perky geekin
(x2)
Wait, wait, oh wait Oooh, Ooohh
Fish bowl send shots
Bend blocks in the back
Earthquakes and selling cracks
All my niggas into that
You send a shot we send it back
All facts no cap
Put my hat to the back
100,000 in the bag
$11 an hour ain’t enough to live
So I’ma go in every store and I’ma swipe this shit They try to lock a nigga up and I’m like fuck a bid Cause either way, mommy still gon’ love her kid
I just took 20 from the city they like who is you
A lot of niggas talking shit that they don’t really do
I’m bout to turn my Air Force ones into a Gucci shoe
I’m about to turn my Timberlands into a Yeezy boot
My president black, bandana is blue
Yeah I’m dripping got me glistening like I came out the pool I’m so exotic like I came out the zoo, but I shot out the coupe I got a scope with a clear eye view, woo
I’m feeling on your baba treesha Shorty said she like my demeanor And she look like a eater
I’m off the perky geekin
(x2)
Wait, wait, oh wait
My Demeanor is meaner than yours Oooh, Ooohh
Female alpha and I practice what I preach I devour, tell me can you take the heat You can touch with your eyes only
I know you like what you see
That Je Ne Sais Quoi energy Baby get on your knees
You can’t say Pop without Smoke
So fill up your lungs my diamonds will make ya choke
You like the way I move my demeanor is meaner than yours So clap for the encore
You can’t say Pop without Smoke
So fill up your lungs my diamonds will make ya choke
You like the way I move my demeanor is meaner than yours So clap for the encore
I’m feeling on your baba treesha Shorty said she like my demeanor And she look like a eater
I’m off the perky geekin
(x2)
Wait, wait, oh wait
My Demeanor is meaner than yours Oooh, Ooohh
#PopSmoke #Faith #DuaLipa
Lyrics:
When’s the last time you had a real one? She said “It’s been awhile”
Someone that’s gon’ deal with you
She said “She got no more”
She said she just got her body done, and it’s still sore From head to toe, she’s dripped in Christian Dior
See there ain’t a doubt about it, you’re spoiled
See you want to be rewarded for being loyal, being loyal
You want me wrapped around your finger
Like a rapper or a singer, nah
See these diamonds in my teeth, bitch: I am royal, I am royal
When’s the last time you had a real one? She said “It’s been awhile”
Someone that’s gon’ deal with you
She said “She got no more”
She said she just got her body done, and it’s still sore From head to toe, she’s dripped in Christian Dior
See there ain’t a doubt about it, you’re spoiled See you want to be rewarded for being loyal You want me wrapped around your finger Like a rapper or a singer, nah
See these diamonds in my teeth, bitch: I am royal, I am royal
When’s the last time you had a real one? She said “It’s been awhile”
Someone that’s gon’ deal with you
She said “She got no more”
She said she just got her body done, and it’s still sore From head to toe, she’s dripped in Christian Dior
#PopSmoke #Faith
Lyrics:
Drippin’, wildin’ on television You could
Still see a nigga tell the vision Pimpin
Whippin
But these ??????
Pop was here last week. He was talkin’ about Brooklyn and the place Brooklyn was at. How they were really like thrivin’ right now but he was you know, he was tryna pull people up with him. And he wasn’t even to where he was about to be, he just was tryin’ to, he was tryna get, I mean he was well on his way. It’s just tragic. 20 years old, rest in peace, God Bless Pop Smoke.
Look, nigga we made it Nigga we made it, we made it Nigga we made it
Thank God that I made it Nigga we made it, we made it Look mama, I made it
I remember the days
Same fit for a week straight
I used to eat 50 cent cake
Now it’s Phillippe’s
It’s Phillippe’s for the steak
And hella thots up in the wraith
I can’t wife that thot
Til that bitch get out my face
We killed your big brother
We killed your little brother
Now it’s Phillippe’s
It’s Phillippe’s for the steak
And hella thots up in the wraith
Said I hop in the Lam, skirt off
I spent 50 up in Bergdorf
I got shit you never heard of
Buy it, I don’t care what it cost
No, and I always keep a pole
Rain, snow, I did a hundred on a pro
If you droppin the Woo, we come where you live Glock 9, infrared
Pull up and empty the clip
Woo
Dread had the strap all summer In the floss moving reckless Please do not play with me Nigga I keep a K with me
Look, nigga we made it Nigga we made it, we made it Nigga we made it
Thank God that I made it Nigga we made it, we made it Look mama, I made it
Nigga we made it
We come from the trenches nigga Trap, trap
Same fit for a week straight
Know what I’m saying, 50 cent cake Now we eating Phillipe’s steak
Look, Tyler got the album of the year. For now
But Pop about to drop. I see the platinum in the clouds
Now Push about to drop, so real trappers stick around
The crown is only for the king. They tryna place it on clowns I declare war, nickname he sell raw
Different city, same ghetto, bring the Woos on tour
Push start drop top 8 12 two door
Baby Rover, Benz Coupe, bitch you better choose yours How can I not? Oo! How can I not?
When a brick is 36, bitch how could I stop
These Richard Milles are 1 of 1, shit how could I watch
We Made It We Made It, whether you like it or not
Look, nigga we made it Nigga we made it, we made it Nigga we made it
Thank God that I made it Nigga we made it, we made it Look mama, I made it
#PopSmoke #Faith
#PopSmoke #Faith #MrJones
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
Visual by: Ryan Frank @toonboi
#PopSmoke #Faith
BOOGIE is in theaters now and will be available on demand March 26 2021.
Set a reminder now at WatchBoogie.com
Music video produced & directed by: @transition_ninja and @steadyprime
Subscribe to Pop Smoke’s channel: https://PopSmoke.lnk.to/Subscribe
New Merch: shop.realpopsmoke.com
Follow Pop Smoke:
instagram.com/RealPopSmoke
instagram.com/ShootForTheStars
Lyrics:
Look
AP, Spicy
I bust a check in my Nikes
Am I a killa? Might be
Two tone, icy
(X2)
Talk to me nice or don’t talk at all, ah
I make a call and it’s war
I’m off that Adderall
(X2)
Get to spraying niggas cause I hate niggas
Fuck niggas I ain’t playing wit em
I don’t really wanna hear niggas
I don’t got nothing to say nigga
I’m with Bear eating steak dinner
Just know he got a K wit em
And my lil mama got it in her purse
All I gotta say is babe get em
If I run down it’s a drum round
All you gonna hear is gun sounds
Niggas know I bring them guns out
I make it hot when it’s sun down
Ah
Fever, shorty want act like a diva
Shorty want suck on my Nina
I leave that shit wet, Aquafina
AP, Spicy
I bust a check in my Nikes
Am I a killa? Might be
Two tone, icy
(X2)
Talk to me nice or don’t talk at all, ah
I make a call and it’s war
I’m off that Adderall
(X2)
Look
I got 52 shots in this Glock and an infrared up on the opp if he let off
Trey suvy hold the chop, yellow tape when it pop knock his head off
Load up the chop it go dumb, niggas see me and they run
Silencer up on the gun
Niggas will shoot you for nothing
Trey suvy, boy playing with the toolie
I bet he make a movie
Woo, Woo
Pop dripped up in Louis
Couple hundred in some jewelry
Spent 55 on her booty
Touch her ass and niggas shooting
AP, Spicy
I bust a check in my Nikes
Am I a killa? Might be
Two tone, icy
(X2)
Talk to me nice or don’t talk at all, ah
I make it a call and it’s war
I’m off that Adderall
(X2)
#PopSmoke #AP #Boogie
Lyric video created by Ian Eager @eager.ly
Lyrics:
Look
AP, Spicy
I bust a check in my Nikes
Am I a killa? Might be
Two tone, icy
(X2)
Talk to me nice or don’t talk at all, ah
I make a call and it’s war
I’m off that Adderall
(X2)
Get to spraying niggas cause I hate niggas
Fuck niggas I ain’t playing wit em
I don’t really wanna hear niggas
I don’t got nothing to say nigga
I’m with Bear eating steak dinner
Just know he got a K wit em
And my lil mama got it in her purse
All I gotta say is babe get em
If I run down it’s a drum round
All you gonna hear is gun sounds
Niggas know I bring them guns out
I make it hot when it’s sun down
Ah
Fever, shorty want act like a diva
Shorty want suck on my Nina
I leave that shit wet, Aquafina
AP, Spicy
I bust a check in my Nikes
Am I a killa? Might be
Two tone, icy
(X2)
Talk to me nice or don’t talk at all, ah
I make a call and it’s war
I’m off that Adderall
(X2)
Look
I got 52 shots in this Glock and an infrared up on the opp if he let off
Trey suvy hold the chop, yellow tape when it pop knock his head off
Load up the chop it go dumb, niggas see me and they run
Silencer up on the gun
Niggas will shoot you for nothing
Trey suvy, boy playing with the toolie
I bet he make a movie
Woo, Woo
Pop dripped up in Louis
Couple hundred in some jewelry
Spent 55 on her booty
Touch her ass and niggas shooting
AP, Spicy
I bust a check in my Nikes
Am I a killa? Might be
Two tone, icy
(X2)
Talk to me nice or don’t talk at all, ah
I make it a call and it’s war
I’m off that Adderall
(X2)
Subscribe to Pop Smoke’s channel: https://PopSmoke.lnk.to/Subscribe
New Merch: shop.realpopsmoke.com
Follow Pop Smoke:
instagram.com/RealPopSmoke
instagram.com/ShootForTheStars
#PopSmoke #AP #Boogie
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#PopSmoke #Boogie


