Salty - Saint, Dai Burger

This must be Saint

Dai Burger

Saint

We back at it

What up?

I’m too gangster

I’m too bossy

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me

I got the recipe

You too salty

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me

I tell her

Back, back, back, back up off me

Back, back, back, back up

I got that recipe

You too salty

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me

My name Burger D

I know you heard of me

If a bitch try to fight, she’d be in surgery

It’s an emergency

I need currency

See, the money maker hate her, burn, third degree

I just came off tour I got jet lag (Woo!)

Louis luggage, got a few bags (Carry that?)

They tryna figure who I’m better than (Never)

Migraines, I need exederin

All these bum bitches birds, call 'em pelicans

I just got a tan, more melanin

In my six inch heels I moon walk on them

Shit, I’ma let the money talk to 'em (Yeah!)

I’m too gangster

I’m too bossy

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me (Told her back up off me!)

I got the recipe

You too salty

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me (You gotta go!)

I tell her

Back, back, back, back up off me (Bye!)

Back, back, back, back up

I got that recipe

You too salty

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me

I got the juice, got the sauce, keep it slippery

Eat it up, when you lick it off, leave it glittery

If we ain’t talking cheddar then there’s a bad connection

And you’re looking unfamiliar to my recollection

Oh, you feelin' salty?

Sorry, don’t blame ya

Overpay to hit the stage just to entertain ya

Doin' shows everywhere, crossed a couple borderlines

Worry about tours, get the fuck up off of mine

I’m so good up, good up, at my hood up, hood up

In the kitchen mixin' with the spoon that’s what up, what up

Put ya foot up, foot up and wind it down, drill sergeant

Salty 'cause I’m in my own lane, no margins

I’m too gangster

I’m too bossy

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me

I got the recipe

You too salty

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me

I tell her

Back, back, back, back up off me

Back, back, back, back up

I got that recipe

You too salty

I tell a mothafuckin' hater back off me

How does she moon walk in six inch heels?

How does she moon walk in six inch heels?

She be cookin', she got skills

She be cookin', pay them bills

It’s a snack, it’s an entrée, it’s a whole damn meal