Lyrics:
I'm Bug a Boo Daddy
AKA me, myself
Yo, let's take a quick pic bro, come on, come on, come on
And I
I'm Bug a Boo up-grade-you (Cha ching)
Also
There's no right way to do a
Wrong thing, I could hear you say
You're bringing on the light
It's a quick trip there and a long return
So make the grade
in 'leventh grade, I dirtied up my only K
Get my round of 'plause, in a couple months I done made a way
I'm why niggas dropped the Rollies and went
Mic check Ali the mic don't sound right
Even the shooters can get shot
Get shot quick
Even the shooters can get shot
(Ali get it right)
Even
There beneath the tree
No matter what the world
You'll always be my baby
Mommy come quick
The dreaming tree has died
The air is growing thick
bad motherfucker playing Space Invaders
Fucking with the girls in the fourth grade
Either feeling on they butts or pulling on they braids
Walking
in a ditch
I be stomping down demons, stomping down quick, come on
The police don't come around these parts
They tell me that we all a bunch
and they don't know what to call it
Better hide your wallet 'cause I'm comin' up quick to strip your cash
Bought a ticket to your concert just to come
and they don't know what to call it
Better hide your wallet 'cause I'm comin' up quick to strip your cash
Bought a ticket to your concert just to come
and they don't know what to call it
Better hide your wallet 'cause I'm comin' up quick to strip your cash
Bought a ticket to your concert just to come
Mastered economics 'cause you took yourself from squalor (slave)
Mastered academics 'cause your grades say you a scholar (slave)
Mastered Instagram
So mi ah say yuh know it's kartelly (timely)
I'm a high grade angel (yuh know)
So mi ah say yuh kno when I smoke d weed
I'm high next to heaven
Mastered economics 'cause you took yourself from squalor (slave)
Mastered academics 'cause your grades say you a scholar (slave)
Mastered Instagram
to say
(Yeah yeah yeah)
Down grade, down grade
I will just do it all my way
Yeah yeah yeah
keeping a mock on my face 'cause who really cares what they have
And with my reputation at stake
I was scufflin' just to save face
Couple wins, couple losses, some broken up too quick to call it
My last scrap was with
still feelin' the pain
Turnin' circles in my 9th grade
Dealin' Cocaine
To many hassels in my local lights
Survivin' the strain
And a man without
to do
A wrong thing, I could hear you say
You're bringing on the right
We'll theres a quick trip there and I'm on return
So make the grade or feel
feel closer
We all drunk in love with no need to be sober
Ladies get their hair done, and men, we notice
You get high grade Indian weaves,
an alcoholic (Hi, Marshall)
I have a disease and they don't know what to call it
Better hide your wallet 'cause I'm comin' up quick to strip yo' cash
Bought
and forgot the snack
Petting heavy didn't bother you
Your eighth grade teacher showed you what to do
Failed your english and biology
But you learned
quick to stop a sucka flow like menopause, it's the
Original ghetto bastard, so now I makes a switch
I used to sell dope, but in 1994
I'm makin
Allstate
Parlez, I need a mixed bitch like parfaits
Who read Junie B. Jones in fourth grade
With a big forehead like Sade
She always give me free tickets
drums (oh)
And the school system treat us like we dumb
That's why I'm in the hallway
Eighth grade, I was trappin' in the hallway (oh, yeah)
Yeah, I
hadn't seen you since the fifth grade
Now you're nineteen and you're five-eight
He said "Honey, you sure look great
Do you get the checks I send on your
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