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fatt on fatt - fatt macc lyrics

[intro: ytb fatt]
d*mn, it’s a whole lot of motion involved
(you’ll fly too if you link up with french)
we pop this sh*t every day, not only on the weekends
fatt macc, what’s poppin’, n*gga?
foxes only, n*gga, yeah

[verse 1: ytb fatt]
i got the keys to the streets, keys to the trenches
n*gga, i knew how to adapt, i bought me some weed and a gun when i first hopped in it
these n*ggas don’t know how to work the streets for real ’cause they just hopped in ’em
that was my young n*gga, covered all of his head, threw on his ski, put that fire in his denim
40k pokin’ out my britches, this blue cheese got my pockets itchin’
these shows got my pockets thicker, i’m finna drop some show money on this b*tch
n*gga, this sh*t got different, my motion bigger, so the hoes thicker
n*gga, this sh*t got different, my pockets larger, so the whips different

[verse 2: fatt macc]
free my n*gga max all in the county, all my bros k!llers
ran it up off turkey bags, you see me with her, know i hit her
boy, you got that sh*t off telegram, you know i go and get ’em
all my ice came off of instagram, f*ck talkin’, i’m showin’ a n*gga
my florida boy gon’ come and clear the block, he want a brick of flak
you can take me anywhere ’round the world and i’ma set up shop
you ain’t got no business in my business, you ain’t gotta call
swiper trap, we went fatt on fatt, you is not a fox
[verse 3: ytb fatt]
model ho workin’ a trap in the trenches, i’m in la tryna set up shop
i’m in the trap tryna take a picture, i put all the j’s out
you don’t even know how to work the kitchen, why you in it, n*gga? get out the house
macc just called my phone like, “what you got goin’? the labels wanna talk now”
uh, i don’t know ’bout you, but i’ma take that risk when it’s m’s involved
every time i pop it, the racks be on me, man, i keep mine on
i’m in lenox, i got forty thousand and three switches in the mall
my hoes be sendin’ pictures, i be sayin’, “y’all gave it and i love y’all all”
i’m in the m with a thirty ball, england b*tch just ate my b*lls
girl, you f*ckin’ with a trap n*gga, so put this in your bra
b*tch, you f*ckin’ with a raw n*gga, so i’ma f*ck you raw
n*gga, that ain’t no gumbo that you smokin’, ain’t even hear you cough

[verse 4: fatt macc]
n*gga, that ain’t no pluto that you smokin’, that’s that whatchacallit
i was on the block with a whole lot of shots, my young n*gga ready to catch him a body
you can’t even lie like you know trappers, i ain’t heard about you
n*gga shot me, shot his ass back, i know you heard about it
you ain’t got no money, n*gga, i done ran my change up
i been goin’ to cali five years, i got the same plug
pour a four of wock’, i’m high as f*ck, i’m on the same cup
you know i’m never trippin’ ’bout no ho, we f*ck the same girl
4 am, you know i ain’t got no business at the b00by trap
flight attendenant b*tches, i’m gettin’ ate up while i’m in the air
two hundred in the stash, a hundred k in work, i got this sh*t off sellin’ bags
and all you n*ggas broke, my pockets sittin’ on fat on fat

- fatt macc lyrics

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