Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Intro’ by 1takejay. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 1takejay or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Wait hold up, I’m finna turn this bitch up
(Mustard on the beat hoe)
Ridin’ through the city, where it’s litty
Countin’ hunnids, countin’ fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ri-ri-ridin’ through the city, where it’s litty
Countin’ hunnids, countin’ fifties
I like bitches with big titties
I’m finna shoot a porn flick, bitch come get your cameo
She got a baby-daddy and a kid, but she ain’t tell me though
She runnin’ from the D, Oh My God, she’s a scary hoe
I kill pussy, I hope she got insurance for the burial
Wait hold up, how you even know me? “Oh I heard you on the radio”
My pockets on fatboy, shoutout to Lil Terrio
The hardest nigga always singing louder than the stereo
Commit a crime, then starting pointing fingers, like “There he go”
I be fresh to death, fly as hell when I walk through
Why niggas hatin’ on me, that I ain’t never even talked too?
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, nigga, who are you?
Oh, you still mad from high school, ’cause the coach didn’t start you?
I take my hoes too Toys’R’Us
Why? ‘Cause they childish
You gon’ find a better nigga? Baby I highly doubt it
Just like a old-ass whip, these hoes got high mileage
Stop gossipin’, bitch you still live’ in public housing
Boy bye, she only f*ck with niggas with the blue-check
I ain’t fuckin’ with her, even though I got the blue-check
On Instagram, and my bank account, big blue check
I’m a cold nigga, when I come around, she made the crewneck
Knockin’ ’em down like dominoes, I’m freaky, yeah, who next?
Even though our convos be dry, I got you wet
I gave her good D, now she braggin’ in a groupchat
Now she always poppin’ up, like a new text
I got a mic, come sing, you can be my Whitney Houston
I ‘ont want a lot, but just like Nike, I’m tryna’ do it
Your secrets safe with me, ’cause I don’t care ’bout who you screwing
The people say I’m famous, really I be really coolin’
I’m a fool, but that jewelry look fake, who you foolin’?
The niggas that be flexin’ on the ‘Gram, be really losin’
Hey tough guy, don’t play with guns, if you ain’t really shootin’
Stop playin’, them niggas in LA be really true
Ridin’ through the city, where it’s litty
Countin’ hunnids, countin’ fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ri-ri-ridin’ through the city, where it’s litty
Countin’ hunnids, countin’ fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ridin’ through the city, where it’s litty
Countin’ hunnids, countin’ fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ri-ri-ridin’ through the city, where it’s litty
Countin’ hunnids, countin’ fifties
I like bitches with big titties