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Yeah, the beat cut up. 00:03
Nah, this shit record, man. 00:09
Yeah, let me pop my shit. Pop it. 00:14
Yeah, yeah, let me pop my shit. Pop it. 00:16
Bitch, let me pop my shit. 00:19
Pop my shit, yeah. 00:21
Yeah, let me pop my shit, go. 00:23
Damn, homie. 00:24
What's happening, Brodie? What's happening, Brodie? 00:26
Got bands on me, all this fuckin' cash on me. 00:27
Watch me double up soon as I do my dance on it. 00:30
Got a bag of fetty pills, send it to the ten. 00:33
Wipe the dirt with it. 00:34
Let that paper talk. 00:36
Talk a whole lot of motion, nigga, this shit a cake walk. 00:38
Pop out and let that Drake talk. 00:40
Shots fire, we be outside. I let the Wraith talk. 00:42
Diamonds make the face bark. 00:45
Put more than so I can day walk. 00:47
I got a ton to blow up. 00:48
Been on the run, no slow up. 00:50
Better step foot in this bitch. 00:52
You ain't got a hundred to throw up, or at least a dub to throw up. 00:53
Even my little stuff gon' flex. 00:56
Take that little bitch off your wrist, show some respect for yourself. 00:58
Goofy ass. 01:00
Ooh, let me pop my shit. Pop it. 01:01
Yeah, yeah, let me pop my shit. Go. 01:04
Bitch, let me pop my shit. 01:07
Pop my shit. Yeah, yeah. 01:10
Let me pop my shit, ooh. 01:11
Got a million on my wrist, yeah, I can pop it. 01:13
I can pop it. 01:15
Number water 'round my neck, yeah, I can pop it. 01:16
I can pop it. 01:18
Ain't flexing like I'm flexing, I can pop it, nigga. 01:18
Pop it. I got dog shit on me, nah, 'cause I can pop it, nigga. 01:21
Bitch, yeah. 01:24
I got houses, cars and jewelry, don't even post 'em, bitches. 01:24
So much motion 'round this bitch, so I got motion sickness. 01:27
Turned the green and pinks and blues like I roasted chicken. 01:31
Coco whip and dab on spinnin' Testarossa whip it. 01:33
Soon as a bitch playin' my paper, I'm gon' get even the first day. 01:36
You let a hoe play in your face and still believin' what she say. 01:39
Goofy nigga, got so much cheddar, I think I need an extra plate. 01:42
All my cars on FS and X, got AARs and extra Dracs. 01:45
Ooh, let me pop my shit. Pop it. 01:49
Yeah, yeah, let me pop my shit. Go. 01:52
Bitch, let me pop my shit. 01:55
Pop my shit. Yeah, yeah. 01:58
Let me pop my shit, ooh. 02:00
Got a million on my wrist, yeah, I can pop it. 02:03
I can pop it. 02:05
Number water 'round my neck, yeah, I can pop it. 02:06
I can pop it. 02:08
Ain't flexing like I'm flexing, I can pop it, nigga. 02:08
Pop it. I got dog shit on me, nah, 'cause I can pop it, nigga. 02:10
Bitch, yeah. 02:13

Pop My Sh** – English Lyrics

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By
Icewear Vezzo
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Lyrics & Translation

Dive into the world of Detroit hip-hop with Icewear Vezzo's "Pop My Sh**" – a powerful track that not only showcases his distinctive flow and hard-hitting production but also offers a vibrant insight into the language of self-made success and confidence within modern rap culture. This song is perfect for understanding authentic street narratives and contemporary slang.

[English]
Yeah, the beat cut up.
Nah, this shit record, man.
Yeah, let me pop my shit. Pop it.
Yeah, yeah, let me pop my shit. Pop it.
Bitch, let me pop my shit.
Pop my shit, yeah.
Yeah, let me pop my shit, go.
Damn, homie.
What's happening, Brodie? What's happening, Brodie?
Got bands on me, all this fuckin' cash on me.
Watch me double up soon as I do my dance on it.
Got a bag of fetty pills, send it to the ten.
Wipe the dirt with it.
Let that paper talk.
Talk a whole lot of motion, nigga, this shit a cake walk.
Pop out and let that Drake talk.
Shots fire, we be outside. I let the Wraith talk.
Diamonds make the face bark.
Put more than so I can day walk.
I got a ton to blow up.
Been on the run, no slow up.
Better step foot in this bitch.
You ain't got a hundred to throw up, or at least a dub to throw up.
Even my little stuff gon' flex.
Take that little bitch off your wrist, show some respect for yourself.
Goofy ass.
Ooh, let me pop my shit. Pop it.
Yeah, yeah, let me pop my shit. Go.
Bitch, let me pop my shit.
Pop my shit. Yeah, yeah.
Let me pop my shit, ooh.
Got a million on my wrist, yeah, I can pop it.
I can pop it.
Number water 'round my neck, yeah, I can pop it.
I can pop it.
Ain't flexing like I'm flexing, I can pop it, nigga.
Pop it. I got dog shit on me, nah, 'cause I can pop it, nigga.
Bitch, yeah.
I got houses, cars and jewelry, don't even post 'em, bitches.
So much motion 'round this bitch, so I got motion sickness.
Turned the green and pinks and blues like I roasted chicken.
Coco whip and dab on spinnin' Testarossa whip it.
Soon as a bitch playin' my paper, I'm gon' get even the first day.
You let a hoe play in your face and still believin' what she say.
Goofy nigga, got so much cheddar, I think I need an extra plate.
All my cars on FS and X, got AARs and extra Dracs.
Ooh, let me pop my shit. Pop it.
Yeah, yeah, let me pop my shit. Go.
Bitch, let me pop my shit.
Pop my shit. Yeah, yeah.
Let me pop my shit, ooh.
Got a million on my wrist, yeah, I can pop it.
I can pop it.
Number water 'round my neck, yeah, I can pop it.
I can pop it.
Ain't flexing like I'm flexing, I can pop it, nigga.
Pop it. I got dog shit on me, nah, 'cause I can pop it, nigga.
Bitch, yeah.

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