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it's like that - yl (rap) lyrics

[intro: joe from 1992’s reservoir dogs]
oh you guys like to tell jokes and giggle and kid around huh?
“what did we do wrong? what shoulda we done? what didn’t we do? it’s your fault, my fault, his fault. all that bullsh-t.” finally someone comes up with the idea, “wait a minute. while we were planning this caper, all we did was sit around tell f-ckin’ jokes! got the message?”

[verse 1: yl]
yo, my view distorted through dominican cigar smoke
i stole the mic just from rippin’ off the barcode
the villain strikes again, venemous to the mics and men
bodies layin’ empty ’till discoveries of light within
swim into the deep end, walk to the horizon
n-ggas lose faith then they apply science
check the forecast, light precipitation is predicted
lotta women suckin’ (gasp) we get to labeled as committed
i don’t get it, i don’t get a lot of things
let the lady sing, baby swing that body f-ck around and do a dip
bring it back ‘fore i break that -ss off like a chip
i’m just thinkin’ aloud i tend to do it often
especially when the hennessy get the best of me
coughin’ off the trees
bring my mind some peace when i’m fallin’ off over the top over the edge
keep watch, while i’m jumpin’ over the fence
i sip my drink on the bench
long nights n-gga, long days i’m just tryna get my rights n-gga
in all ways, always uh triple r n-ggas don’t play
yo triple r n-ggas don’t play we don’t f-ck around

[hook: yl]x2
first you want this but you really want that
you lost your f-ckin’ mind now you tryna crawl back
you see things as you want but it’s really like that
you see things as you want but it’s really like that

[verse 2: yl]
check for me
young y comin’ to you live from new york
i can tell whoever’s fake from the way that they talk
uh, look at me in my f-ckin’ eyes when i greet you
see through, every single lie that you deem true
sittin’ on the couch with a blunt that’s perfected
listen to the intro of your tape and i eject it can’t respect it
get the message man you smoke a lot of weed
i ain’t even mad at you if you gotta p-ss the tree
just don’t claim that you ain’t the same my n-gga
with yo’ gold chain trinidad james who are you?
you don’t even know the answer
still search, my journey for the paper the mission is [?]
what you want first n-gga

[outro: joe & mr. pink from 1992’s reservoir dogs
here are your names…mr. brown, mr. white, mr. blonde, mr. blue, mr. orange, and mr. pink
why am i mr. pink?
because you’re a f-ggot, alright?
why can’t we pick our own colors?
no way, no way. tried it once, it doesn’t work. you got 4 guys all fightin’ over who gets to be mr. black

- yl rap lyrics

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