Set Berner (Ft. J-Mo & Trippie Redd)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Set" by Berner (Ft. J-Mo & Trippie Redd). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro: Trippie Redd]
Yeah
Nigga, you know what this shit is, uh
Yeah (Yeah)
Listen
[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
On my mama, on my daddy, on my sister, on my brother (Yeah)
On my motherfucking set, yeah
On my mama, on my daddy, on my sister, on my brother (Yeah)
On my motherfucking set
[Verse 1: Berner]
With the bag, I'm the illest, competition wanna kill us (They wanna kill us)
Got the price back up, grabbed the mini-van and filled it (Yeah, I filled it)
Dior button-up, exclusive, gang got me fitted (What else?)
Shoutout to my bitches, but her neck game the realest
Rare grapefruit, I'm on the island, private chef and all
I only pull up if the check involved (I need a check)
Yeah, I show up with the smoke bag
Put the cup down, don't end up with the toe-tag
What happened to your girl? She out shoppin' for a whole bag (Now she a lil' ho)
I used to be in [?] until the blow land
Yeah, they talk about money
Countin' thirty twenties got my nose all runny
I'm ridin' in a Yukon, stash full of fishscale
My haters still sick, I'm hopin' that they get well
A hundred-twenty grand, that's what the other watch cost
Three karat pair on my pinky like a mob boss
Yeah
Nigga, you know what this shit is, uh
Yeah (Yeah)
Listen
[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
On my mama, on my daddy, on my sister, on my brother (Yeah)
On my motherfucking set, yeah
On my mama, on my daddy, on my sister, on my brother (Yeah)
On my motherfucking set
[Verse 1: Berner]
With the bag, I'm the illest, competition wanna kill us (They wanna kill us)
Got the price back up, grabbed the mini-van and filled it (Yeah, I filled it)
Dior button-up, exclusive, gang got me fitted (What else?)
Shoutout to my bitches, but her neck game the realest
Rare grapefruit, I'm on the island, private chef and all
I only pull up if the check involved (I need a check)
Yeah, I show up with the smoke bag
Put the cup down, don't end up with the toe-tag
What happened to your girl? She out shoppin' for a whole bag (Now she a lil' ho)
I used to be in [?] until the blow land
Yeah, they talk about money
Countin' thirty twenties got my nose all runny
I'm ridin' in a Yukon, stash full of fishscale
My haters still sick, I'm hopin' that they get well
A hundred-twenty grand, that's what the other watch cost
Three karat pair on my pinky like a mob boss
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