Chief Keef – Woosah/Street Cat Lyrics
Woosah/Street Cat Lyrics By Chief Keef
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, haa
Ahaha, haha, haha, uh
Man, put his a– back, where he came! (Ahh-uh)
I thank yall for comin’ out (Ayy)
Ayy, Ayy (Ahh-uh)
Ooh, oooh
Sosa baby, GBE baby (Mm-mm)
Ha, ha, ha, haha, haha (Ahh-ahh)
Baby, you free as a motherfvckin’ freeway
Vroom, vroom, vroom, go do you
Get green baby, don’t be blue
Oh you got guns baby, unhandled
Dope around the collar tryna let me loose
Got the good dollar signs, don’t hate dude
Now all these drugs, I’m like woosah
Chillin’ out like woosah
Boy, my gun don’t got no holster
Gun don’t got no holster, ayy
Yeah, that young n—- from O-Block
Creepin’ down on yo’ block, ayy
I’ma star, I ain’t a co-star, star, ain’t a co-star, ayy (Ayy)
At first I was a Hobart, now I’m runnin’ shows up, ayy (Ayy)
Ahh-uhh
I’m from another planet, what I’m doing here?
I ain’t been to my home planet in six years
I know they be lookin’ for me like, “Damn, Sosa a don!” (ha, ha, ha)
Only thing I get high off of purple and chron’ (Ha, ha, ha, ayy)
In a all black Lamb truck, this b—- cost a Rolls Royce Dawn (Dawn)
You don’t know how it feel to lose all of yo’ n—–
It’s just one thing you want (Want)
Is one more time (Time), to cool with all your n—– (Let’s get it)
But I’m pa$$ed that, big blunts but I’m not gonna pa$$ that
Sometime I f— with a rat hoe
But I would never f— with the rat pack
Got Smith-n with me, baby, woosah, woosah
Stick yo a– like Bosstop (Bang, bang-bang, bang-bang)
B—-, put your seat belt on when you hop in the fast car
Tadoe steady ask how I’m bleedin’
When he know I’m bleeding like a tampon
Still got love for the same b—- like when I was posted on Lamron
My mama named me Keith baby, I’m a rider baby I’m Stephen
When the wheels went flat, we fixed that b—- and kept going
(Ahh-uh, ahh-uh)
Now them folks on a trap when I pull up they be like yeah boy
[Street Cat] Ayy (Ayy)
Smoking on that satellite (Man, f— these hoes)
Yeah, because it smoke right (Ffff-beeep!)
I’ve done been to the jail, I ain’t tryna go twice (Beep)
You crazy on the internet, then why you acting so nice? (Beep)
I got all this f—— ice (Beep), I can have a snow fight (Beep)
Droptop down went to ‘deem (Beep), and of course, he overlight
(I’m a street n—-, dog, hoes love my style)
N—–’ white bricks day but I see f—–’ cold rice (Beep)
(I’m a street n—-, dog, hoes love my sty-)
Ayy, ayy
I’m a street n—-, dog, hoes love my style
I should wrap the Lamborghini black and white like a cow
What’s that s— up in my pocket n—- it’s the .40 cal (Bow)
They be seeing a n—- balling n—- here they come to foul
Baby momma keep on calling she like, “Get your f—— child”
I’m street n—-, n—-, I keep pistols tucked around
He was talkin’ crazy, they like “Nah, he was f—— around”
I got folks here in with me and I’ll make em’ buck you down
I’m street n—- p—-, I ain’t faking for the clout
I got cash but my crazy cousin’ll take you for some pound
We’re like Suge crowds p—-, we’d shank ‘ya for some thou’s
I got blue faces, thottianas, make ’em buss it down
I’m a street n—- p—-, I ain’t payin’ a hoe s—
They got cash apps on deck, I ain’t sending hoes s—
He a peon a– n—-, he done sent his hoe a d—
At his dream girl house with gang in that hoe s—
I’m a street n—-, dog, everybody know that
So a hater, get whacked, bond money on deck
When I got my first gun, I’m like, “I gotta blow that”
I should go back to dough runners and selling dope sacks
I’m street n—-, n—-, I ain’t gotta prove that
Oh, you tryna prove a point? Well, why you gotta do that?
I should go to foster dealers and go buy the school back
I’m street n—-, n—-, that was where my school at
I’m street n—-, n—-, can you understand me?
You don’t speak English? How you say, “Rubberband me”?
Smoking on this stinky pack, flame up the gangrene
Sosa what the opps on? N—-, not a damn thing
I’m a street n—-, dog, I don’t love no b—-
I ain’t talkin’ to that b—- unless she buy her own s—
Unless she skrt, skrt, skrt-skrting and riding in her own s—
B—- steady buying me s—, I can buy my own s—
I’m street n—-, dog, I was jumping off the porch
I had sprained my f—–’ ankle doin’ jumpin’ as a sport
Stealin’ granny s—, now I’m taking Nana out, that’s a sport
We ain’t talkin’ to these n—– they ain’t nothin’ past a dork
I’m a doggy n—-, baby, I know you love my fit
I ain’t got no b—-, n—-, how you f— my b—-?
Young street n—-, dog, two revolvers and a stick
Don’t let folks ‘nem hold it, they’ll steal ya f—–’ s—, ayy (Bang!)