FUCKED UP Lyrics – diamond

[Intro: DJ Holiday & diamond*]
(I love this music)
My n!gga diamond*, Holiday Season (Holiday Season, baow, baow, baow)
BLING BØI, back for another round, n!gga (H-H-Holiday Season, baow)

[Chorus]
You think I’m tripping ’bout that pu*sy, ho? You fu*ked up, yeah
You fu*king n!gga, you just like me, you lucked up (You just fu*ked up)
He done downed the pints of green, his stomach fu*ked up (Damn)
You acting stiff with that lil’ pu*sy, she’ll regret that (Baow)
I got Rick, she double back, lil’ b!tch, you fu*ked up (Fu*ked up)
I pull a stick up out my coat just like some nunchucks, woah

My brother, Phønk, he bang for real, he still be rocking Chucks (ØWAY)
I don’t believe it’s love for real if you don’t let me fu*k (ØWAY, ØWAY)

[Verse]
Had the oven heat the house, we was fu*ked up
She don’t like popping pills, she like ’em crushed up (Woo)
Yeah, them diamonds on my pinky look like mustard (Woah, woah)
And this bankroll that I got look like a muffin (Bling, baow, brrt)
She fu*k me, then fu*k the opps, these b!tches fu*ked up (Damn)
Pillow-talking for that pu*sy, you a buster (Shut up, b!tch; Brrt)
Pretty b!tch fu*k me good on the molly (Brrt)
Diamonds bussing, make you cry just like Visine
Fu*king hoes and counting cho’s, that’s my hobby (Woo)
I’m having racks, it’s for real, you need no ID (Woah, woah, woah, woah)
B!tch, I’m diamond*, I put pointers in the time piece (Bling, blaow)
Prada shirt, Chanel boots, don’t need no stylist

[Chorus]
You think I’m tripping ’bout that pu*sy, ho? You fu*ked up (It’s diamond*)
You fu*king n!gga, you just like me, you lucked up (Woah, woah)
He done downed the pints of green, his stomach fu*ked up
You acting stiff with that lil’ pu*sy, she’ll regret that (Fu*ked up)
I got Rick, she double back, lil’ b!tch, you fu*ked up (Fu*ked up)
I pull a stick up out my coat just like some nunchucks
My brother, Phønk, he bang for real, he still be rocking Chucks (ØWAY)

I don’t believe it’s love for real if you don’t let me fu*k