Look Like My Mama (feat. Tyler, The Creator) (Explicit)-Az Chike

Look Like My Mama (feat. Tyler, The Creator) (Explicit)

歌手:Az Chike

时间:2026-08-28

    使用手机浏览器「扫一扫」

    在手机上保存,获得更好体验

标签
歌词

Look Like My Mama (feat. Tyler, The Creator) (Explicit) - Az Chike/Tyler, The Creator

Lyrics by:Damaria Walker/Tyler Okonma/Curtis Jackson/Teraike Crawford/Phillip Pitts

Produced by:Tyler, The Creator

Yeah

One two three let's go

Bitch I look just like my mama

Tick-tick time to heat it up like a sauna

Your negro hit cha-cha lil' dance like La Bamba

Thumper might drop if I stomp in these Converse

Why are you mad lil' bitch?

Get some commas

Pitty-pat pockets lookin' celiac kitty fat

Ayy Chike bro let's bring the city back

Really that guy

Hmm

What he really on?

Shit for now call me Mr. Hundred Million goddamn

Bet a bitch get tired before I stop throwin' money

Bitch this thuggin' in my veins don't need it tatted on my stomach

Dawg call it pita bread big bag I mean hummus

Never stress about a bitch I re-up in three months

Then I take one step back and ten forward

I let niggas copy me copy that 10-4

Hoes sent send the text these hoes weak send more nigga

One two three let's go

Bitch I'm sorry snuck it in the party

Said you're getting guap niggas lyin' like safari

Hate when a bird ask questions like"What are we?"

Got me runnin' with that long stick in hand like Sha'Carri

Uh

P-noid I don't play 'round

Brodie said he'll swing and slide for me he a playground

Ayy ayy ayy

Bitch I'm too rich to use a Zelle or a PayPal

I stuff so many bitches in the Rolls shit a Greyhound

Hm

I dot my Is but I'll never cross my nigga T

Nigga

They just starin' 'cause they scared you know how niggas be

You hittin' send on a Tweet nigga hit the streets

I wake up and thank God for makin' me what I'm meant to be

I don't even play fair niggas know what's up

Catch a opp in the club might blow it up

I'm from the land where you from?

Nigga throw it up

One two three let's go

Ayy ayy

Baby I'm the keyboard killer tour seat filler

Mr. New Ting in the G4 with her

Big feet big league you's a D4 nigga

Me and Jasper the purple and gold floor sitter

Errybody sittin' front row ain't a fan

Errybody that you cool with ain't ya mans

Niggas jealous of me still shook my momma hand

Fuck all that business under ten toes I stand nigga

Bitch I smell like new money yeah sponsor shoe money

In her throat like Throat Coat tea bags and two honeys

Only do what niggas dream of or can't even imagine

Try to throw me off my pivot but the check say New Balance

Let me loose huh let me through

Hoppin' the fence to the top T came gave me a boost

Niggas book chunk the deuce I do movies you do spoofs

Consider this shit easy math the way I calculate my moves

One two three let's go

Ayy nigga CHROMAKOPIA I had my guard down

Crackers tried to say I only rap about my cars now

I'm the only one who left the block and turned the car 'round

And picked my niggas up sorry if I'm tryna bar out

Stop judgin' buddy loss if you don't show him ways of winnin'

Stop sayin'"Free the homie" if you know that nigga did it

Is it ballot or the bullet?

'Cause I'm votin' for the killin'

We gon' burn this bitch down put the fire to the ceilin' nigga uh

Bitch you know it's first Sunday like Katt Williams

Blow her back out then I hit while her back healin'

Catch 'em out back backdoor 'em then I'm back chillin'

Weak bitch peaked in high school can't get back that feelin' uh

Yeah that's right the wanna DAZN box me in

But I ain't going without a fight

Bitch the whip so white I had to let it read my rights

It be the niggas I'm better than sayin' they can't see the hype tough

One two three let's go

Ayy ayy my mama prayed for me but I still keep blammer

Yup

Your bitch is not bad you just have low standards

I'm him bow down nigga where is your manners?

Come on

When I walk in phone down I don't like cameras

Come on

If that big fella catch you I can't help you

I'm Santa got a big bag with a elf too

Two car keys seven Ms on the belt loop

And I skrrt off tires smell like I melt boot big feet

Big Chike bitch I got big dick

Your attitude don't match your pockets wait a minute big ick ugh

Been called the blitz she turned around hit stick ugh

Career on tick tick tick tick tick boom

I got way too much confidence for a bitch

I got way too much chip and dip on a hoe

I got way too much I can't keep it on the low hm

I got way too much huh I got way too much

展开显示全部歌词