Birdman Pop Bottles is a song recorded by Birdman that illustrates a melody and dynamics that make Birdman shine. As part of an amazing album, Pop Bottles lyrics will satisfy your music cravings. Sing along Pop Bottles lyrics using the lyrics on this page.
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Birdman Pop Bottles lyrics
Birdman Pop Bottles video
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Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
Look like I got on a championship ring
Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah
Okay start with straight shots and then pop bottles
Pour it on the models, "shut up bitch, swallow!"
If you can't swallow, shut up bitch gargle
Straight up out that water with my Marc Jacobs goggles
Fresher than a mother fucker, yep I'm a mother fucker
No I won't take your girl, but I'll sure take her tongue from her
Can't you tell I'm in love woman, like no other woman
Oh I'm sorry sweetheart, I thought you were my other woman
Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
Look like I got on a championship ring
Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah
As I recline behind my desk
I ain't got a lot of Nikes but I got a lot of checks
Got my own shoe brand, new on the set
Went from sittin' in a cell to sittin' on a jet
From shittin' in a cell to shittin' on a jet
I lost too many friends, but I won too many bets
I made too much money, but I ain't make enough yet
So I scratched and, yes, Jr. is the best
So many niggas from my hood on they back
So many niggas from your hood on they back
That's why we so paid and it be like that
I'd rather pop a bottle before I pop a Gat
Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
Look like I got on a championship ring
Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah
Yeah only sipping red champagne
White tee red hat red bandanna
Uptown, choppers for companions
Fuckin' with the Birdman then we fuck up your companion
Fuckin' with my son and we run up in your mansion
Chopper make music, bitch start dancin'
Stunna man back so you know the circumstances
And I'm cookin' up the Carter 3, no advances
All my cars automated, automatic
No lie we don't even drive no Astons
Uptown we packin' and we stackin'
Young Money, Cash Money we the champions
Back to: Birdman lyricsLook like I got on a championship ring
Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah
Okay start with straight shots and then pop bottles
Pour it on the models, "shut up bitch, swallow!"
If you can't swallow, shut up bitch gargle
Straight up out that water with my Marc Jacobs goggles
Fresher than a mother fucker, yep I'm a mother fucker
No I won't take your girl, but I'll sure take her tongue from her
Can't you tell I'm in love woman, like no other woman
Oh I'm sorry sweetheart, I thought you were my other woman
Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
Look like I got on a championship ring
Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah
As I recline behind my desk
I ain't got a lot of Nikes but I got a lot of checks
Got my own shoe brand, new on the set
Went from sittin' in a cell to sittin' on a jet
From shittin' in a cell to shittin' on a jet
I lost too many friends, but I won too many bets
I made too much money, but I ain't make enough yet
So I scratched and, yes, Jr. is the best
So many niggas from my hood on they back
So many niggas from your hood on they back
That's why we so paid and it be like that
I'd rather pop a bottle before I pop a Gat
Okay we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
Look like I got on a championship ring
Cause I ball hard, no bitch we ball harder
I am the Birdman, and I'm the J.R-ah
Yeah only sipping red champagne
White tee red hat red bandanna
Uptown, choppers for companions
Fuckin' with the Birdman then we fuck up your companion
Fuckin' with my son and we run up in your mansion
Chopper make music, bitch start dancin'
Stunna man back so you know the circumstances
And I'm cookin' up the Carter 3, no advances
All my cars automated, automatic
No lie we don't even drive no Astons
Uptown we packin' and we stackin'
Young Money, Cash Money we the champions
These lyrics are not available for printing.
Pop Bottles received 9 out of 10 based on 63 ratings.
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Copyright: Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Songwriters: RICHARDS, DEKE / PHILLIPS, JASON / GREEN, SHANDEL / BROWN, WAYNE / CARTER, DWAYNE / MORALES, STEVE
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