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Monday to Sunday Lyrics – Pooh Shiesty ft. Lil Baby & Big30

Monday to Sunday Lyrics by Pooh Shiesty ft. Lil Baby & Big30 is latest English song with music also given by them. Monday to Sunday song lyrics are written by Pooh Shiesty.

Monday to Sunday Lyrics - Pooh Shiesty ft. Lil Baby & Big30

Monday to Sunday Song Detail

Singer: Pooh Shiesty, Lil Baby, Big30
Composer: Pooh Shiesty, Lil Baby, Big30
Lyrics by: Pooh Shiesty

Monday to Sunday Pooh Shiesty

 

(Pablo, you crazy for this one)
([?], you went Beats Mode on this one)

I turn Sonic for money, in the trap Monday to Sunday
Clientele steady pumpin’, Draco shells, they’re what we dumpin’ (Brrt)
I’m familiar with junkies, see my face and they come runnin’ (Yo)
Two Instagram hoes from Compton, I snatched ’em up out my comments
Them regular clips ain’t enough (Nope), if you tote a Glock, put a drum in it (Brrt)
Tryna catch up to me? There’s gon’ be a whole lotta running (Runnin’)
Eyes in my rearview mirror, I’m on point, won’t go for nothin’
Got twenty shots left up in the K, thought I shot the whole hundred

Pay my ties at church from hustlin’, even the pastor know we thuggin’ (Amen)
My lil’ cousin shot my brother, my brother got back, don’t fu** with my cousin
We got Glock’s from seventeen, .33, we ain’t goin’ for nothin’ (Nothin’)
He tried do what I do and I do what I do, he really my baby boy
Kel Tec 223 with a hundred round drum, that’s probably my favorite gun
Everybody know how it go, seen bro on bro, on God, we ain’t shootin’ no ones
Baby got mills, I come through, foreign
Sell these bands if it ain’t no tourin’
Fresh white tee and some Off White Jordans
Draco too loud, it don’t need no horn
Keep my weed, I need my drugs
Got two shells, gotta feed my sons
[?] streets I run
Run through weed every week, buy tonnes
ni**a, I’ma speak, ain’t bite my tongue
I’m the one that’s having that shit where I’m from
Been round shit ever since I was young
fu** all my teachers, said I wouldn’t be nothin’

I turn Sonic for money, in the trap Monday to Sunday
Clientele steady pumpin’, Draco shells, they’re what we dumpin’ (Brrt)
I’m familiar with junkies, see my face and they come runnin’ (Yo)
Two Instagram hoes from Compton, I snatched ’em up out my comments
Them regular clips ain’t enough (Nope), if you tote a Glock, put a drum in it (Brrt)
Tryna catch up to me? There’s gon’ be a whole lotta running (Runnin’)
Eyes in my rearview mirror, I’m on point, won’t go for nothin’
Got twenty shots left up in the K, thought I shot the whole hundred

Draco knocked a chunk up out his back like he working for Apple
Shie just poured a six up in the Sprite, I pour eight in the Snapper
If I catch this opp all by myself, I’ma spray him without ’em
Smoke back to back in the Audi, we got the whole party cloudin’
Rocked his ass to sleep, we slimed him out after we took him in
He was clubbin’ with the other side, we had to cook his ass
We just shook they block in [?] but we had Texas tag
Dropped his ass then hit his ni**a up so we burnt up the Jag
And my hood treat me like Baby, four packs of Fentanyl on me
Hate to serve your little old lady but granny keep callin’ me
Any chopper hit, ’bout eighty ten shot for who followin’ me
Any skreets [?], ain’t no ni**as [?] me (Brr)

I turn Sonic for money, in the trap Monday to Sunday
Clientele steady pumpin’, Draco shells, they’re what we dumpin’ (Brrt)
I’m familiar with junkies, see my face and they come runnin’ (Yo)
Two Instagram hoes from Compton, I snatched ’em up out my comments
Them regular clips ain’t enough (Nope), if you tote a Glock, put a drum in it (Brrt)
Tryna catch up to me? There’s gon’ be a whole lotta running (Runnin’)
Eyes in my rearview mirror, I’m on point, won’t go for nothin’
Got twenty shots left up in the K, thought I shot the whole hundred

See something, I’ve got to have it, tuck your chain before I grab it (Ayy, tuck your chain, brrt)
Spin the block in the cadd y, these F&N’s black and plastic (Brrt)
Ms Gladys raised a savage, they said I shoot like my daddy (My daddy)
Spent thirty-eight racks to fix my smile [?] Kardashian
Ayy, thirty-eight racks to fix my grill, fifteen, eighty or two (Bling)
bi**h talking ’bout us settling down but I’m fu**in’ her crew (She know it)
3754, pockets full, choppers and residue (Brrt)
We certified like the truth, bi**h, it’s 30, Baby and Pooh (Brrt)

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