Wild Boy [Remix] – Song and Lyrics by 2 Chainz


Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Wild Boy [Remix]’ by 2 Chainz. 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 2 Chainz or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.

Cobain’s back, yeah
Cobain’s back
Got all these crazy white boys yelling Cobain’s back

Yeah bitch, yeah bitch, call me Steve-o
Yeah bitch, yeah bitch, call me Steve-o
I’m a wild boy, I’m a I’m a wild boy
I’m a wild boy, f*ck an eighth I need o’s

Yeah bitch, yeah bitch, call me 2-chainz
Eat your girl, wear my necklace, call it food chain
I’m a wild boy, been that way for a while boy
All I kill is beats and pussy, still ain’t went on trial for it
South side, my chain glowing
If them lames going, then I ain’t going
My aim good, my pistol dirty
Chopper clean them like dish detergent
Kobe Bryant, but the sicker version
Big meech, but the spitter version
Stacey dash, but a thicker version
Getting head while the engine running

(Meek Milly)
(Mm-maybach music)
I’m a wild boy, strapped down like a cowboy
I’m really in the game, you just a towel boy
I pull up in that thang all on them alloys
With so many carrots on, bugs bunny’ll die for
Your bitch call me Steve-o, cause I ball like I’m d-rose
My neck be on sub-zero, and I won’t save her, no hero
My wrist done cost me a maro, got your whip on my wrist
You keep my name in your mouth, but it keep your bitch on my dick

Bitch, I got my beanie and my hoodie
Here go the dick, bet you know where to put it
I’m harder than buckwheat’s head
You niggas softer than jello pudding
I stack them up, I keep counting digits
You falling down to London bridges
Laughing at you bitches like nana-booboo
Bitch, cause I’m back up in here
I rip it up, I put it down when it get mean
2 chain, meek mill with the nicotine
French Montana and machine gun Kelly
I ain’t gotta tell you how I act on 16
Gangsta’s don’t dance no more
Pussy ass nigga better stay in his place
How many times you seen one fucking rapper
Kill so many mother fucking rappers with an 8?

R-r-r-r-riding with them young boys, rolling up that o-g
Rather have a hothead, then to have some cold feet
Homeboy it’s a new day, all my jewels is blu-ray
On your wife like cool j, beat it up like the new dre
Money here be too grown, fresher than a newborn
They try to sign a whole group, started from the group home
Moving like a boss move, mgk my dog fool
You know I’m a wild boy, cocaine cowboy

Had a show in Cleveland, law shut it down
Dropped that gangsta shit, security couldn’t control the crowd
Bitches on that drink, my niggas on that loud
Niggas talking fowl? my pistol talking pow!
Yeah bitch, yeah bitch, I’m a dope boy
Top gone (transparent), where it go boy?
Lamb feta cheese sauce inside broccoli
Got that machine gun Kelly and it’s screamin’ cock me

Everybody shut up (shut up)
Couple of them ready to do it different whenever I tell them bitches to come up (come up)
And I ain’t talking for the stares, I’m talking for air (gasp) somebody light a blunt up (blunt up)
Call me Steve-o bitch, I put a nutt up to in front of your mother’s face like it’s nothing
Puff it till’ my eyes yellow when I’m with them sun up (what up?)
What I need a shirt fo? what I need a shirt fo?
Tatt’ed up from my head to toe like what I need this shirt fo?
What do I need to work fo? I smack the boss at my job, boy
Fucking hoes like I’m Austin powers, giving golden showers, that’s wild boy!

I’m a wild boy