Jordan Rules Lyrics – JPEGMAFIA

Read the full Jordan Rules lyrics by JPEGMAFIA along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy JPEGMAFIA's music, you can also explore CULT STATUS and COKE OR DOPE?, two other songs by JPEGMAFIA.

[Intro]
Uh

[Verse 1]
You ain't gotta be white for this Kimber to give you a tan
Uh, beat on the boss, double the cost, bam
They suck a d!ck when you popping, I know they gon' stop but I want my advance
Got these b!tches jumping through the hoops to get closer to PEG
I'm fu*king a fan
Yeah, I fired my PR, the b!tch was a loser for letting that money get to her head
Uh, I did not grow up with baby videos, my mama could not afford cams
These n!ggas be whiter than snow and they grow up, that's why they relate to they fans
Keep that hating to face, when I shoot this Tiananmen Square, n!ggas tanking they plans
I was wrong when I said Dillon Brooks
I'm a Billy Laimbeer kind of man
Post her up, but you stay in my lane, I got Jordan rules to put you in a pan
I be fu*king my b!tch from the side
My side b!tch, called Joey Valence
At the photo room, you could've died
All these fu*kers, you not got no hands
What you done? What you not gonna do is step up to my face with that plan
Uh, out of my mind, now out of the thoughts
Out of the pan, I'm flipping the pot
Brain over pu*sy, thought out of the box
All of you n!ggas is tender and soft
Everyone pull the fire lock, trip that motherfu*ker right up out of his socks
.45 to his lightbulb, Teddy Pendergrass, we just turn that b!tch off

[Break]
Fu*k n!gga
I was born in the '80s, n!gga
I don't give a fu*k about what none of you stupid ass n!ggas is doing
Fu*k y'all

[Verse 2]
I got more choppas than crackers, than those in the government
Look what I—
We aim at your head
(??) kill you a fag
How you the house cat?
Used to cardio
Shot your boss like my brother was Mario
Choppers and pistols automatics and TECs
I'm feeling like Joker (I'm ready to laugh)
The Kimber a freak, bang
(??) keep the drum in her butt
I know you n!ggas be jocking, the b!tches be barking
I'm ready to muzzle her mutt
How you the house cat?
Used to cardio
Shot your boss like my brother was Mario
Choppers and pistols automatics and TECs
I'm feeling like Joker (I'm ready to murder)

[Break]
I was born in the '80s, n!gga
I don't give a fu*k about none of you twisted tee sipping punk b!tch-ass n!ggas be doing
Y'all n!ggas is pie
All of y'all
Hahaha
Born in the '80s
Look

[Verse 3]
I ain't gon' front, got that s*it in my pelican
I break it down when I'm checking my ticket
Eskimo bros just some n!ggas I'm better than
Industry n!ggas all estrogen b!tches
White people copying culture, I wanna be Trumpsist, y'all wanna be n!ggas
Now how come your b!tches be hitting me up on the side 'cause she want her a n!gga?
How come they get so defensive when you call 'em out, they don't want to be—
How much you hate that n!gga?
I hate him so much, I hope they die
How much you hate this n!gga?
His daddy dead and his brother's pie
How much you hate that n!gga?
I'm fu*king his main, I'm working the side
Where's your patience, n!gga?
I ran out when he started running up the lies
How did you break this n!gga?
I took all my enemies names, I don't beef, I mime
You b!tch, your house, your clout
That's mine
Them cars, them clothes, them hoes
All mine
I got these beats doing cardio
El generico, mask off and body, ho
Don't fringe, don't move, don't breathe
He dying for clout, press his femur a T

[Outro]
Some addictions grow more severe