Caroline Lamar - Bacalao Lyrics

Bacalao
Mira, Bacalao
Caught a codfish, no bitch allowed
Every time I pull up, someone else is lookin jealous now
Get a rag, someone gonna have to wring you out
Heart so cold, fake gold, don't you know
Que el mal te hará feo
Ella probablemente no tiene suficiente auto contenido
Robando el crédito por la fama
Bandido

I be like ikuyo
Aikido
El ruido de ti tropezando
Cuándo no
Mayor que toda, mayor que toda
Pero todavía no me importa una joda
Déjalo, tranquilo
No es su estilo
Pero te gusta ser el objetivo

I'm on the come up
She tryna run up
I get my sum up
Brrumpa-pum-pum-up

Quieres ser mezquina (Mezquina)
Caiste en la trampa, nińa (Niña)
I'mma-I'mma-I'm ya leader (Leader)
Somethin' that you never seen, ya
Now you can't compete, ya
Ahora, soy la Puta Reina
Necesitas disciplina
Es una pena
Que ambas estemos Latina (Latina)

Now you're weak
In your sleep
With your lies
That you speak
And your cries
On repeat
Yuh, yuh, yuh

I got beef
I got beef
I got beef
Dat gyal so bad
All da boys skeet, skeet
Ándale, ándale
And she not the only one
Ándale, ándale
Sad Papi with the gun

Keep fronting with bitches, yea
Cross-faded with a blunt
Keep preaching fake phrases, yea
You ain't the Holy Son

Eliminate
All da fools who wrong done me
All they want is one night for fun
You'll see

Oh, Mirror, Mirror
Tell me what the f*ck you'll see
Oh, gracious me
No academic degree
Smoking more tree
Fame don't come for free
That's a big mood

No te deseo buena salud
Es un virtud, no tienes actitud
Ah, si
Ah, si
Es todo acerca de ti
Please excuse me
You know I don't give it easy

It takes a lot to go and please me

Windows up, hot box
And those new Nike socks
Driving 'round the block
Posing like you got a lot
Now this old guy thinking he can
Pop the lock
Well, this news for you
I'm not just some shit on stock
Lemme get the Glock
Lemme get the Glock poppin'
You pay the full price
This is not a f*ckin' drop-in

Te estoy llamando
Escuchando
Te mirando
Compitiendo
Yo espero que estés llorando
Oh no

Look at that
Ya girl just got another f*ckin' award
I got the rack
Her chest flatter than a billboard
I'm getting stacks
While he sit back and relax with the snacks getting fat

Yuh, yuh, yuh

Ruck it up, up
Ruck it-ruck it up, up
He think he know what's up
So he put the glove up
I don't play ball
But I gotta batter up
When he try to slide in
He ain't home running it up

Too much
Yeah, ya know I'm too much
Only way I'm interested is if you my crush
I'm goin' up

I'm goin' up, yuh
I'm goin' up
Yuh

I'm goin' up, yuh
Busta'!