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(M-M-M-Murda) I got them birds, sell me them birds This is absurd, I got the purse Sell me the purse, sell me the Cutlass They look like nerds when it come to numbers Bitch, I'm a nerd, I'm doin' numbers Bitch, I got birds, I got 'em hummin' I got 'em twerkin', I got 'em jumpin' I got a seven, I got a bundle I got a worker, I got a runner She got a Birkin, I got my gun in it in case you lurkin' First, she didn't fuck with Cocaine, she converted I gave her too much of the Yay, she got nervous I put my thumb in lil' bae and she squirted I put some beads on her waist and her girdle I put that ho in the air on commercial I sent her all the way down to the Turks Tiger Woods in the Sunday clothes I said, "Whole birds, I don't do wings, this ain't Buffalo, bitch" Whole bunch of vultures, whole bunch of crows, bitch I'm the Eagle Street Russell Crowe I'm too cold to be a hot boy And, I got birds flyin' south, boy Letras de cancionesYeah, I'm not bird to be a hot boy I got them birds by the flock, boy Yeah, I'm too cold to be a hot boy I'm not bird to be a hot boy I make them birds sing like choir boy Free as a bird in the clouds, boy I got them birds, birds I got them birds, birds I got them birds I got them birds, furs Get 'em in Burb', I made 'em— Prr, prr All these girls, damn, I'm 'bout to serve Yeah, I'm servin' them birds ahead of the curb Yeah, I'm 'bout to swerve fast, the regulars burn All of these feathers, damn All these treasures, remember to always measure Always business, yeah, never pleasure Remember, always, never Wings stretchin', yeah Both directions, yeah Always flexin', charge him extra I got Big Birds, you need Tweety, call Sylvester Tiger Woods, I got birdies dawg If it's a drought, it snap my finger, all the birds gone fall No discounts, fuck you mean? You talkin' bird shit, dawg Number thirty-three, sell the jersey, bitch I'm too cold to be a hot boy Got birds flyin' south, boy Yeah, I'm too bird to be a hot boy Got them birds by the flock, boy Yeah, I'm too cold to be a hot boy I'm too bird to be a hot boy I got more birds than you got clout, boy Free as a bird in the clouds, boy I got them birds, sell me them birds This is absurd, I got the purse Sell me the purse, sell me the Cutlass They look like nerds when it come to numbers Bitch, I'm a nerd, I'm doin' numbers Bitch, I got birds, I got 'em hummin' I got 'em twerkin', I got 'em jumpin' I got a seven, I got a bundle I got a worker, I got a runner She got a Birkin, I got my gun in it in case you lurkin' First, she didn't fuck with Cocaine, she converted I gave her too much of the Yay, she got nervous I put my thumb in lil' bae and she squirted I put some beads on her waist and her girdle I put that ho in the air on commercial I sent her all the way down to the Turks It's Tiger Woods From Letras Mania