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homicide - yn que lyrics

[intro: yn que]
yop
(ooh, sav k!lled it)
okay

[verse 1: yn que]
d*mn, i just ran into a bad*ass cuban b*tch
and she pulled up with her friend, this b*tch super thick
and she got her cpl, this b*tch too legit
f*ck, brodie hit me up like, “i need another load”
package came in, b*tch, i’m shoppin’ by the ‘bow
i ain’t gotta buy ’cause a n*gga really grow
you need another bag, lil’ n*gga, let me know
out here tryna flex, you gon’ get your sh*t took
i ain’t gotta shoot, hit a n*gga with a left hook
just banged a hoop—
just banged a hoop, n*gga, i ain’t talkin’ westbrook
‘member days we ain’t have a ride
brodie pulled up in that scat, it caught me by surprise
in they bity with a pew*pew, catch a homicide
i bе so godd*mn high, feel like i’m finna fly
[verse 2: yn jay]
alright, you gon’ do it like that?
i just rode past— ahh
caught him slippin’ on thе sidewalk, now he finna die
i get high as h*ll, i got wings like i’m finna fly
i just mixed the gucci with the louis, got me feelin’ high
i be feelin’ fly
i do not eat by myself, i’ma split the pie
how you wanna make it to the top, but you won’t even try?
b*tch pulled up with a coochie and a pen, got me finna sign
bad b*tch asked me how i’m doin’, got me feelin’ fine
i don’t know how long i got left, got me feelin’ time
beecher n*gga, i be throwin’ b’s like i’m in the heights
thought about some sh*t before i said it like i’m finna lie
i just jumped off an airplane, but i’m feelin’ fly
i just jumped— yeah
i can jump from the tree to tree like i’m finna glide

[verse 3: don perrion]
how you n*ggas wanna play it? let’s do the hard way
back in school, we was fingerin’ b*tches in the hallway
these n*ggas been actin’ like hoes, just with a bald fade
don’t hop in my dm if you ain’t got no pape’
i’m the motherf*ckin’ ruler, but i ain’t blade
i’m the rapper and the shooter, i go both ways
i be beatin’ b*tches down, look ’em in they face
i hope this rap sh*t pop before i catch a case
pop a n*gga, then flee to another state
prayin’ that i make it ’cause i know i got what it takes
back in the city, homesick, it’s the murder rate
sick n*ggas can’t go to they cribs, we know where they lay
don’t make me bring out them apes and i ain’t talkin’ bape
cuz went to texas and dropped fifty on johnny dang
i can bet my f*ckin’ life on it, y’all ain’t takin’ chains
in a foreign with no f*ckin’ ceiling like lil wayne

- yn que lyrics

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