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Jay Critch - Google Maps Lyrics



Jay Critch - Google Maps Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Maiya The Don ]

Oh yeah
Uh
Hood Fave (yeah, blicky, blicky, blicky)
(OG Parker)

Roll the gas, bro what's up wit' it? (Gas, gas)
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots
What you still ain't drunk nigga? (What, you still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama though
She ain't raised no punk nigga (nah)
I was doin' bad and I got through wit' that (I'm done wit it)
If you see her wit' me she got rackies in her Louis bag (she comin' wit it)
Put her in that foreign she get wetter when I do the dash (ayy, hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math (do the math)

Blicky wit' me
I might do a drill in the P.A. hills
Thick as f*ck look at all this ass, I ain't miss a meal (miss a meal)
Yellow whip, cream inside lookin' like a banana peel
Big Don, big money, big dawg, I'ma big deal (oh yeah)
I been settin' trends I see these bitches takin' notes though
M's in the bank, double C's all on my torso
I run through a check and I ain't trippin' on no broke ho
30K around my neck, 30 inches on my frontal (yeah)
Front row at Kim Shui, diamonds doin' jiu jitsu
Magazine in the Chanel incase a hoe got a issue
Steppin' in my Lanvins, blew bag at the comments
Hatin' hoes on my dick I don't read they comments, yeah

Roll the gas, bro what's up wit' it
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots
What you still ain't drunk nigga? (You still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama though
She ain't raised no punk nigga (she ain't raise no punk)
I was doin' bad and I got through wit' that (I'm done with it)
If you see her wit' me she got rackies in her Louis bag (she come with it)
Put her in that foreign she get wetter when I do the dash (hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math

Don't come around me actin' stupid
Bro we shoot 'em fast
Money long you could see that shit on Google Maps (hood fave, ayy)
Ayy, you could see it from a satellite (you could see it from the satellite)
Bad bitch with no weights but she eat it up, got appetite (hey, eat it up)
I might pop out to the club wit' her (pop out to the club)
Hit it while she playin wit' her toy she fell in love wit' it (she fell in love)
And that brand new foreign is a toy I'm havin' fun wit' it
All these niggas say they run the city, we the ones in it (Tote Money Gang)

Ayy, and we been the ones
I don't even know where the hate be comin' from
So I went and bought bigger guns (bigger caps)
Plain jane got racks like Wimbledon
Bad bitch with the dimples on her
Move strange and the fam gone miss you, huh?
Get popped like pimples on you (get popped like)

Roll the gas, bro what's up wit' it
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots
What you still ain't drunk nigga? (You still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama though
She ain't raised no punk nigga (she ain't raised no punk)
I was doin' bad and I got through wit' that (I'm done with it)
If you see her wit' me she got rackies in her Louis bag (she come with it)
Put her in that foreign she get wetter when I do the dash (hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math

(OG Parker)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Oh yeah
Uh
Hood Fave (yeah, blicky, blicky, blicky)
(OG Parker)

Roll the gas, bro what's up wit' it? (Gas, gas)
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots
What you still ain't drunk nigga? (What, you still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama though
She ain't raised no punk nigga (nah)
I was doin' bad and I got through wit' that (I'm done wit it)
If you see her wit' me she got rackies in her Louis bag (she comin' wit it)
Put her in that foreign she get wetter when I do the dash (ayy, hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math (do the math)

Blicky wit' me
I might do a drill in the P.A. hills
Thick as f*ck look at all this ass, I ain't miss a meal (miss a meal)
Yellow whip, cream inside lookin' like a banana peel
Big Don, big money, big dawg, I'ma big deal (oh yeah)
I been settin' trends I see these bitches takin' notes though
M's in the bank, double C's all on my torso
I run through a check and I ain't trippin' on no broke ho
30K around my neck, 30 inches on my frontal (yeah)
Front row at Kim Shui, diamonds doin' jiu jitsu
Magazine in the Chanel incase a hoe got a issue
Steppin' in my Lanvins, blew bag at the comments
Hatin' hoes on my dick I don't read they comments, yeah

Roll the gas, bro what's up wit' it
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots
What you still ain't drunk nigga? (You still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama though
She ain't raised no punk nigga (she ain't raise no punk)
I was doin' bad and I got through wit' that (I'm done with it)
If you see her wit' me she got rackies in her Louis bag (she come with it)
Put her in that foreign she get wetter when I do the dash (hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math

Don't come around me actin' stupid
Bro we shoot 'em fast
Money long you could see that shit on Google Maps (hood fave, ayy)
Ayy, you could see it from a satellite (you could see it from the satellite)
Bad bitch with no weights but she eat it up, got appetite (hey, eat it up)
I might pop out to the club wit' her (pop out to the club)
Hit it while she playin wit' her toy she fell in love wit' it (she fell in love)
And that brand new foreign is a toy I'm havin' fun wit' it
All these niggas say they run the city, we the ones in it (Tote Money Gang)

Ayy, and we been the ones
I don't even know where the hate be comin' from
So I went and bought bigger guns (bigger caps)
Plain jane got racks like Wimbledon
Bad bitch with the dimples on her
Move strange and the fam gone miss you, huh?
Get popped like pimples on you (get popped like)

Roll the gas, bro what's up wit' it
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots
What you still ain't drunk nigga? (You still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama though
She ain't raised no punk nigga (she ain't raised no punk)
I was doin' bad and I got through wit' that (I'm done with it)
If you see her wit' me she got rackies in her Louis bag (she come with it)
Put her in that foreign she get wetter when I do the dash (hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math

(OG Parker)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Jason Critchlow, Joshua Parker, Maiya Earley
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC

Back to: Jay Critch



Jay Critch - Google Maps Video
(Show video at the top of the page)


Performed By: Jay Critch
Featuring: Maiya The Don
Language: English
Length: 2:49
Written by: Jason Critchlow, Joshua Parker, Maiya Earley

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