Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Waka’ by 6ix9ine. 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 6ix9ine or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Catch a asthma attack, the way we pull up on ya
Put the pump to his chest, make a nigga cough up
You a bum and you stressed, and that’s why you lost her
Met a nigga from the X, niggas need to boss up
She gon’ eat, you want beef, but this ain’t no burger
All my songs on repeat, that’s what’s up, your word up
I was young with the heat, walkin’ round with burners
Wishing I could wish for anything like Timmy Turner
Na-na-oh, na-oh
Na-na-oh, na-oh
Na-na-oh, na-oh
Why this bitch tryna play me? Are you crazy?
Pocket rocket in my cargos, like the Navy
Put this Tommy to his brain, please, like he Brady
Heartbreaking on the daily, can you save me?
Why is bitches tryna play me? Are you crazy?
I can’t let her have my baby, you not my baby
I can’t let her have my baby, I’m actin’ shady
Heartbreaking on the daily, can you save me?
Y’all gotta move, give me some room, I’m ’bout to shoot
Boom! Everybody running out the room
Boom! Everybody begging, “Don’t shoot”
Boom! Nigga, who the f*ck asked you?
You a bum, are you dumb? Try me, I got this gun
Run, nigga, if I’m here, don’t come
Bitch, you was expecting for me to hit
That’s a dub, I know you put a hole in that shit
Sawed off in the damn drawer
Got a .30 in my drawers, gotta hold my pants up
Only time she ever call is for the banana
I don’t even check my call log, I don’t answer
Why this bitch tryna play me? Are you crazy?
Pocket rocket in my cargos, like the Navy
Put this Tommy to his brain, please, like he Brady
Heartbreaking on the daily, can you save me?
Why this bitch tryna play me? Is she crazy?
That bitch know I’m number one, like Tracy McGrady
Know I got this .380, it’s on safety
I know all these niggas hate me, won’t let it phase me
F*ck nigga
I’ma swerve in the Maybach, I’ma do some damage
Niggas sit the f*ck down if you don’t understand us
I heard niggas talking ’bout they gon’ run down on us
Pull up windows down in a fucking Lamb’ truck
Oh, na, na, na-na-na, na
Na-na-na, na, na-na-na, na
Na-na-na, na, na-na-na, na
Na-na-na, na, na-na-na, na, yeah
Scott Storch