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One Week Video (MV)




Performed By: Lil Berete
Featuring: Unimerce
Language: English
Length: 2:36
Written by: Ethan Cumming, Julian Matsievski, Mercedes Britton, Yaya Berete




Lil Berete - One Week Lyrics




[ Featuring Unimerce ]

Every Monday you know we be bout that gun play
Every Tuesday slide up on the opps like doomsday
Every Wednesday I take the time to check my friends yeah
Every Thursday it's a party like the weekends
Every Friday we f*ck them bitches into Saturday
Every Sunday I send me shooter right to church
Have you ever smelt the dirt?
Pop out the corner put you on a shirt

Betta not leave your stick you know I'm wit da shits,
Better not go and link your bitch you know that she my bitch
All these niggas play pretend you know I'm bout these M's
If we run in to your ass we leave you in the trench
And I'm steady smoking gas she wondering what it is
She know I carry them digits
She wanna have my kids
Told her stop calling my phone
In the kitchen baby
Flying birds like the drone
While I'm whipping baby
I can't never stay home
I'm in the trenches baby
I can never show my mom
What's in these streets baby
Where I'm from we never wrong
We get it poppin baby
There's nobody I can trust
But my glizy baby


Every Monday you know we bout that gun play
Every Tuesday slide up on the opps like doomsday
Every Wednesday I take the time to check my friends yeah
Every Thursday it's a party like the weekends
Every Friday we f*ck them bitches into Saturday
Every Sunday I send me shooter right to church
Have you ever smelt the dirt?
Pop out the corner put you on a shirt

Glizzy automatic try to catch me boy I doubt it
Came in with no practice
Tryna practice on your body
First time I seen a body
It f*cked up my knowledge
I'm in these streets for real
You get killed about it
I f*cked up gave my youngin pills
Now he catchin bodies
I'm slimey you can get killed
If your nose snotty
Please don't worry about my buisness
We kick your door
If it's more than 6 figures
I had no home
In the trap I was living in
F*ckin with my money put you past Mars
If my shooter he killer
I'm a shooting Star
A shooting star
A shooting star
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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




Every Monday you know we be bout that gun play
Every Tuesday slide up on the opps like doomsday
Every Wednesday I take the time to check my friends yeah
Every Thursday it's a party like the weekends
Every Friday we f*ck them bitches into Saturday
Every Sunday I send me shooter right to church
Have you ever smelt the dirt?
Pop out the corner put you on a shirt

Betta not leave your stick you know I'm wit da shits,
Better not go and link your bitch you know that she my bitch
All these niggas play pretend you know I'm bout these M's
If we run in to your ass we leave you in the trench
And I'm steady smoking gas she wondering what it is
She know I carry them digits
She wanna have my kids
Told her stop calling my phone
In the kitchen baby
Flying birds like the drone
While I'm whipping baby
I can't never stay home
I'm in the trenches baby
I can never show my mom
What's in these streets baby
Where I'm from we never wrong
We get it poppin baby
There's nobody I can trust
But my glizy baby


Every Monday you know we bout that gun play
Every Tuesday slide up on the opps like doomsday
Every Wednesday I take the time to check my friends yeah
Every Thursday it's a party like the weekends
Every Friday we f*ck them bitches into Saturday
Every Sunday I send me shooter right to church
Have you ever smelt the dirt?
Pop out the corner put you on a shirt

Glizzy automatic try to catch me boy I doubt it
Came in with no practice
Tryna practice on your body
First time I seen a body
It f*cked up my knowledge
I'm in these streets for real
You get killed about it
I f*cked up gave my youngin pills
Now he catchin bodies
I'm slimey you can get killed
If your nose snotty
Please don't worry about my buisness
We kick your door
If it's more than 6 figures
I had no home
In the trap I was living in
F*ckin with my money put you past Mars
If my shooter he killer
I'm a shooting Star
A shooting star
A shooting star
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Ethan Cumming, Julian Matsievski, Mercedes Britton, Yaya Berete
Copyright: Lyrics © Society of Composers, Authors and Music Publishers of Canada (SOCAN), Universal Music Publishing Group

Back to: Lil Berete

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