Search results for 'wait by andrew bird' Page #5

by
That your boy ain't fly
And I'm human so you know it's just a matter of time
Before I fly away
We could die today
Motherfucker why wait?
Hey
While

I can't wait to see you lace your shoes
Things were hazy, but that all stopped with you
We passed by headstones on a walk
I overthink something,

Told my brothers chill cuz Money moves I gotta make,
Cant be sitting round like I'm stuck, I don't gotta wait
I be flexing on my ex, just from

bands
I'ma stop, don't wait, don't hang with no friends

Moving up days, I was out trying to get up
They went to the fall, I went to the win
While I'm

Wake up, can’t wait up, young nigga gotta shake sum
If yeen selling out the P then yeen really gon make none
Walk around wit that fye on me so niggas

Don't you put your head down, pick it up
Said you were here to stay, know you ain't givin' up
Shouted this is good, wait, that ain't big enough

to put me in my place
With all the fake men comes at least an Andrew Tate
If everyone's authentic, then no one can be great
Wait, wait, wait

It's

served
Ordered hot coffee, my mouth is used to burns
Only getting chicken when I'm out, I'm used to birds
Always chasing chicken when I'm out, I'm used

Open Your Door 
Words and Music by Deborah Jeanne Weitzman
Additional lyrics Andrew Austin-Hancock

Open up your door, don't let it stay 
Forever

I got two birds, call em ostrich's
They got long necks, they suck long d***
I got three phones, you can't call none
I got freak hoes, you got all nuns

I'm close-eyed
Model bitch by the coastline
Said she wanna come for a nigga
So she know how to approach mine
Standup since a waist high
Money brings

SOBRE A TERRA 
(Ladainha composed by Mestre Marcos dos Santos)

Sobre a terra, 
Ouço lamento e dor, 
Vento leva passarinho, 
A'ndorinha aqui pousou,

in my mattress
So I can write a bar saying that I'm sleeping on Andrew Jackson's
They say I'm Irish cause my capital is Dublin
My iris's are blue like

я не пущу в свой дом
Куча баксов на кроссовках и я играю в Голд Бол

Да я Andrew Bird я ебашу Bad Pigges
Стёр какао в порошок ебашу Black Niggers

those cherries ripened, most were eaten by the birds,
Maybe a day or two in June you had a chance.
They were sour cherries, 
couldn't bake them in a pie.

Eh
Eh
Eh
Eh
Eh
Eh
Eh
Eh
Heh
Yeh
Ayyy, Miller, what the fuck is this?
Mix the Bud with the Wax, that's the way you're supposed to smoke it
Andrew tate

by the sea.

(Namazöoh:) It seems right: a bird dreams and lives to fly.
(Aleekãnto:) Well he, bold fish, leaped high, soared across the sky
just

Nejay switched it up now he on repeat
That nigga Nejay going dumb like a riri
(Wait, what do you mean by that)
No I mean like Rihanna, like you know

a break, vacay Need to wait, okay, please, go away, go away
Record a tape, my way top g, no Andrew tate
Oh, okay, need a break, vacay Need to wait, okay,

(MAY YOU NEVER BE THE) CHILD OF A REALIST
Words and Music by Robert Andrew Wagner

May you never be the child of a realist.
May you never learn

heartless because you a dumbass
Sitting in the lunch room by yourself
Where yo girlfriend at?
Oh wait you don't got one
Cuz you a dick riding bitch
Tryna buy

like a
Bird off that purple light
You niggas can't wait for me to turn it out
I flip a style, crip a while
Gon' honey child
Ran up about a hundred miles

don't need to fuck no bird
(Bird)
I'mma just put in work
Ou, wait, hold up
Told her I was down bad
She ain't show up
Heartbroken, a bummer
Deleted my

way you gotta move yeah
I’ll be there by noon or two or Six shit soon
Wanna go from rapping in my Room
To arenas, too many thoughts And ideas
Give me