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ca$hland - ybn nahmir lyrics

[verse 1: ybn nahmir]
’bout my game, you know what it is, leave you in a ditch
last summer n*gga scored a point, then he got switched
by the team, i’m gon’ blow brains, don’t need no assist
ain’t no talkin’, we be back*to*back, they know what it is
i’m through that east and i’m just with the guys
you know i got that four*five, so don’t be surprised
i had to slow down on that shootin’ ’cause your shooter telling sh*t
a n*gga playing with my bread, okay, we got them toasters, b*tch
see, this nineteen*eleven’ll put a b*tch up in a casket
act like you trippin’, but i ain’t slipping up in traffic
.40, it’s on me, i get to knocking down your homies
the beef it get funky, and i can’t let no n*gga smoke me
take a trip out to the beach, will and scotty deblor
i don’t even gotta talk ’cause off the rip he a savage
i be in the north pole with a pole, living lavash
told my lil’ cousin manny we need chicken and cabbage
low, tryna hit the road, ducking from police
turned on a back street, ditched the stolie
all of the sudden, my n*ggas coming, shut the whole f*ckin’ city down
them bands up on the ‘gram, but got ’em tucked when we come around
[chorus: ybn nahmir]
i’m a trip mode, cashland wearin’ motherf*cker
n*ggas look over this way, i swear to god they ain’t gon’ touch on
my cash, get it out your b*tch if it come down to it
got her hands feelin’ on my— think she finna chew it
i’m a trip mode, cashland wearin’ motherf*cker
n*ggas look over this way, i swear to god they ain’t gon’ touch on
my cash, get it out your b*tch if it come down to it
got her hands feelin’ on my— think she finna chew it

[verse 2: e*40]
i’m a ganged up individual, but i don’t be talking to no k!llers
i be strained up with medicinal blow and big broccoli cigarillos
when i’m waking up to a wake and bake at the early crack of dawn
i grab my shoebox and proceed to roll up me some lime
my uncle told me that as long you live, don’t you ever be no punk
be ready for altercations and unexpected funk
think wisely and plan out your plot before you go to war
don’t send no amateur, send someone that got down before
when you growing griz, it gotta go through its ugly stage
dead homies tatted on me to calm down my pain and rage
these b*tches all on me, they say that i do not age
the home protection that i choose is a mossberg 500 gauge

[chorus: ybn nahmir]
i’m a trip mode, cashland wearin’ motherf*cker
n*ggas look over this way, i swear to god they ain’t gon’ touch on
my cash, get it out your b*tch if it come down to it
got her hands feelin’ on my— think she finna chew it
i’m a trip mode, cashland wearin’ motherf*cker
n*ggas look over this way, i swear to god they ain’t gon’ touch on
my cash, get it out your b*tch if it come down to it
got her hands feelin’ on my— think she finna chew it
[verse 3: too $hort]
as a youngster i never knew nothing
just a bad*ass kid chasin’ hoes, getting money
i was straight down and dirty, got the game from the pimps
eleven years old going hard on a b*tch (hard on a b*tch)
b*tches walking down the street trying to get my grip
everything she get, n*gga, that’s my sh*t (gimme that)
i set up shop, a million dollar spot
and all my b*tches ran the whole d*mn block (my b*tch)
you choose me, we ’bout to switch the plan
if you playin’, b*tch, you goin’ back to your man
but if you stayin’, you need to meet my other b*tch
you ain’t cool with her, you can’t f*ck with this

- ybn nahmir lyrics

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