cry - ilycrisis lyrics
[intro]
perfect
[chorus: yvngxchris]
b*tch, i’m in l.a. posted with crisis
i seen a lil’ badass b*tch get behind it
i pulled off in a h*llcat, n*gga, i’m flyin’
got racks in my pocket, these jeans number (n)ine
i’m leavin’ ’em fried
i got a glock in my hand, i aim it at him when he tried
that lil’ n*gga tried
i’m ’bout to call up my young n*gga kato, send ’em to the sky
if a n*gga run up
i got a glock in the trunk, eat a n*gga like some pie
if i call up my shooter
that n*gga really hittin’ sh*t, now his mama cried
[verse 1: yvngxchris]
so i got to avoid ’em
b*tch, i would never be cuffin’ these b*tches
just f*ckin’ these b*tches, that’s just out of boredom
boy, do not play with your luck
i do not give a f*ck, i’ma grab my lil’ stick and i torch ’em
d*mn, i might just hop out the porsche
i shoot a n*gga, after that i record ’em
[verse 2: ilycrisis]
yeah, then i record ’em
crisis got back and you know that i’m goin’
feel like kobe, you know that i’m scorin’
might f*ck a b*tch and then she be moanin’
n*ggas be talkin’, but they really hate
i got six n*ggas with me, no drake
get to the bag and right to the cake
some of these n*ggas, they really snakes
[verse 3: yvngxchris]
yeah, they be snakes, we cut the grass up
shorty gon’ shake it, reverse, told her “back up”
boy, you be b*tchin’, you just act tough
where is your sack at? go get your racks up, n*gga
[chorus: yvngxchris]
b*tch, i’m in l.a. posted with crisis
i seen a lil’ badass b*tch get behind it
i pulled off in a h*llcat, n*gga, i’m flyin’
got racks in my pocket, these jeans number (n)ine
i’m leavin’ ’em fried
i got a glock in my hand, i aim it at him when he tried
that lil’ n*gga tried
i’m ’bout to call up my young n*gga kato, send ’em to the sky
if a n*gga run up
i got a glock in the trunk, eat a n*gga like some pie
if i call up my shooter
that n*gga really hittin’ sh*t, now his mama cried
[verse 4: ilycrisis]
he finna cry tonight, cry today
shawty want me, but i’m never the same
an avatar n*gga, feelin’ like aang
that n*gga talkin’, he don’t want no problems
cook on the stove and i’m not talkin’ ramen
yeah, i got dreads on me like a jamaican
that n*gga talkin’, we cook him like bacon
[verse 5: yvngxchris]
and i got bands in my godd*mn hands, man
flip a n*gga upside down, like a handstand
glock finna hit a n*gga, make a n*gga do a dance, man
she like the fashion, the [?] on my pants, man
i’m finna get to the bands, man
got hits on hits on hits, i’m really a band man
they be like, “chris, how the f*ck you be goin’ so viral? i see you all day, godd*mn man”
shh, godd*mn man, how the f*ck you do that sh*t?
hit from the back, shorty a catfish
b*tch, i’m in l.a. posted up with crisis, i’ll tell you what happened
[chorus: yvngxchris]
b*tch, i’m in l.a. posted with crisis
i seen a lil’ badass b*tch get behind it
i pulled off in a h*llcat, n*gga, i’m flyin’
got racks in my pocket, these jeans number (n)ine
i’m leavin’ ’em fried
i got a glock in my hand, i aim it at him when he tried
that lil’ n*gga tried
i’m ’bout to call up my young n*gga kato, send ’em to the sky
if a n*gga run up
i got a glock in the trunk, eat a n*gga like some pie
if i call up my shooter
that n*gga really hittin’ sh*t, now his mama cried
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