Bruh... letra

Lil Dicky

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Bruh... lyrics

Bruh, bruh, bruh
LD, aka stem cells

Everybody know the cat like a dope meme
I got em' buzzing off the crack like a dope fiend
They saw 'em come up with a Mac, yeah, I'm so Steve
Nowadays, bitches tryna crack, got 'em ODing

Like, how them hoes want to get it with L?
They know it's cold enough to charge, like a letterman sale
If they gon' stand behind the bars, I'm in federal jail
I'm going far like a general mail

On that note, I got the fellas saying "What up," the tape, what up?
The same motherf*cker playing with his steak cut up
I'm great, shut up, the flowing, no debate, just us
I'm out of shape, but I'm straight to f*ck

Yeah, you know I got a chicken in the condo
I was sick of getting off beat, she a bongo
Now she playing with the hard D, being Rondo
Drunk and go inside her all sweet like a Strongbow

How I'ma do?
I got your ex coming next like a W do
I gotta flex, I'm the best, now I'm being direct
I'm unimpressed by these bitches that I see in the press

I'm kinda vexed by the trash like I'm cleaning a mess
Cause they as real when they rap as a Chia's a pet
They old news, stocks plummet, men's leg hair, they ain't cut it
Forget about your era, Pat Summitt

Finesse writtens
I wanna get a hundred bitches and f*ck with the spitting
Religious like a couple of post-marital Christians
I've been official, Dick Bevetta a living
You better dig it like you bitches got a mill in the ditch

I'm killing this shit I been kicking like a villainous ninja
My shit is gripping when I run it, how the f*ck I be slipping?
I be intimate with them hoes, she never flummoxed
I take chick, pee, and smash, I call it hummus

And I be funny with this shit, I'm just playing
But still nobody f*cking with the kid, I'm just saying, ah
Got a chicken parm on the date, it seem
But I don't even know the broad, she just grating the cheese

I don't even got a job, I just blaze and free
But still they give a boy bands, 98 Degrees
So come f*ck with me
I got a couple hundred bitches doing drugs with me

And I got a couple dozen bitches tryna hug Dicky
And I got a couple bitches who be steady f*cking me
Hey, that's a good ass life
Only thing I got left, find a good ass wife

But yo, I gotta hit these hoes first, don't tell Mom
But in a year I'ma bend over Michelle Obama
Bruh, you know I gotta do it while I'm hot
I'm tryna get blew in most states, like Barack

I'm tryna show a boo the last name of the Rock
And put her on D till we O, J Watt
I never hit the scene, when I do, I'm high and wasted
I'm f*cking with them jeans, love them bitches high waisted

I run around your team, you a player but I'm Naismith
And I Command V, while you copy, I just paste it, face it
Hotel got 'em puffing on the L, going harder than some hail, you ain't knew it
If everybody had to tell the truth and you had to pick a dude spitting better than your dude, can't do it

Telling me, damn, you got bitches, damn, you got hoes
Damn, you got money, but damn, I got flow
Damn, you got riches, damn, you got clothes
Damn, you got honeys, but damn, I got soul, hold up

This shit I'm making's always tight, it's like a yoga store
They all up in the other boat, it's why I'm overboard
I'm taking time to do it right, it's like a soda pour
Cause we ain't loving all you bitches like we spoken for

I been packing the band-wagon, the man cracking
The man packing the stands, had them clapping they hands
Tagging they Grams, Manhattan was ham
Slapping the fans, playing having the plan

Fans rapping the jams, sagging my pants
You see the type of shit I do on the track?
Hot shit, like I poop in the jacket
Won't mack your bitch, but yo, I'm bout to come and mack your clique

Your whole friend group f*cking with Dick (no hetero)
I yawn when I hear these motherf*ckers on the radio
They ball all retarded, Cuba Gooding up in radio
I long for the moment I can say that's not debatable

I'm past that, I wonder who appreciate it like a Snapchat
Aflac, duck the dude, I'm going hard for the grind, but I tuck this move
I made war with the rhymes, motherf*ck your crew
These bitches going Adolf, tryna f*ck this Jew

I'm too nice, like a motherf*cker that fell in love with a boo twice
As in double as f*ckable as he was and dude tries
To be subtle and get her cuddling
Venting her troubles and getting her truffles

And ending up befuddled when she don't f*ck him
And someone tell him, "Listen, you bugging
She never f*cking a pedestrian muggle like you
So why all the trouble?" but he rebuttal with

"I think I just love her, so I would shudder at the thought
Of being anything other than nice?" (I'm that nice)
Heat bang like I caught a body/port-a-potty
It wasn't even deep, dang, shit is still a hobby

It's too bad bitches sleeping on me, threesome
'Cause now these bitches want to help, but he don't need none
I'm all time, like the Wall at the Bank
You've no shot, like you drawing a blank

Honestly, you probably couldn't hang, man, I've been drawing a blank
Giving you lines, while you sitting there and drawing a blank
So go in the rink, chilling like it's dough in the bank
And I'm flowing danker than a grower in Napa

Growing the stankest cannabis
Doing rap and pro-est smacking the hoe-est rappers
And showing the total package, like my flaccid is growing fatter
Samoan cracker, dapper rapper, had to keep going

Yeah, that rap is a rap, I know you rappers napping, don't know it
There's a dagger pita pappa, tapping on the window
It's a real accurate metaphor of what you having in store
And I be snapping, I mean I be splashing on the - pane me your rain
Falling quicker than Aladdin for his dame
Are you better than me?


letra de Bruh...

Bruh... songtekst

Bruh... testo

Bruh... paroles


Bruh... is a song interpreted by Lil Dicky