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the brand - young lito lyrics

[verse 1: young lito]
yo yankee, this verse‘s gonna cost you ten bands, you heard?
lito
(rap, one take)
i’m a pretty boy but i pop lead
and my guap spread, watch you wanna cop?
i could shop ‘till i drop dead
birds flock to me, ‘cause they know i’ve got bread
money ain’t a thing, i blow green like a pothead
cops said they’re gonna take me out the game
they’re tripping, you won’t catch me slipping if it rain
it’s sickening, haters wanna tear me out the frame
if i get wash, pistols coming out like stains
i pick it up and aim, and blow it out your brain
when it’s beef we don’t play, it’s like we forfeited the game
man, this is a shame how they want my head
these hoes want the love but i want the head
these n-ggas give me hugs but i want the bread
any means necessary, like malcolm said
if it’s a problem, my shooters ‘ll snipe him dead
i used to shoot for them bucks, like michael redd
i lay back instead, i’d rather stack the bills
nothing but bricks, i know how shaq feels
flow sick, if you ain’t thinkin’ i’m that ill
it’s a slogan for my bars, you heard that crack k!lls
i’m that real, let a n-gga act trill
give me the steel, i bet i’m ‘a peel like advil
y’all n-ggas chill, y’all better stay cool
‘cause the four-five equal the chanel nine news (boom!)
(motherf-cker!)

[verse 2: avon blocksdale]
i’m america’s nightmare
c0ke stay stashed in the nik’ airs
or ball tucked
ruger ‘cause a n-gga don’t fight fair
short with words, i don’t converse with herbs
n-ggas talking like they’ ill, knowing they came for them birds
boy, y’all came for the bricks?
i’m talking chopping up birds
rockin’ up in the spots, cops hopping the curb
lethal shot to his top, only movement his nerves
i’m from a block, [crystals pop, half corpses with words?]
paranoia keep me strapped, mental when i [blat?]
got a nine, got a deuce, both would put you on your back
[i be handing lil’ n-ggas…?]
one down, but they don’t even got the little gats
want peace face to face, talkin’ violence in they rap
oh, you nasty on your beats? slow down rapper
i’m a master in the hood, you know that rapper
this shot’ll hit your head – “blaow” – hold that rapper
avon blocksdale, i ain’t no rapper
(motherf-ckers)

[verse 3: king sevin]
turn me up a little bit
(yankee, i see you n-gga)
uh
seat back, smoke blowin’ out the yukon
with a connecticut mami, she goes to uconn
she from the grove, i’m just trying to get my groove on
after i hit, gettin’ clipped like a coupon
used to ignore me, but now they all on me
swear it ain’t a time i speak to these b-tches they ain’t h-rny
when it was time to get to the money, they ain’t call me
now they’re calling for a feature, but now they can’t afford me
it’s all corny, livin’ off of what they used to be
a bunch of old n-ggas trying to get their youth from me
but now i’m up, it’s about what you can do for me
‘cause i was paid back when i was duckin’ truancy
boy in the hood, been a menace to my society
we’re all trying to be paid in full, here’s the irony
it’s all a rivalry, my friends don’t mix well
it’s like crisco in a wish’ well
but i just want all my n-ggas with me when i touch this first milli
but most of my n-ggas state prop’, i ain’t talkin’ philly
i spit crack, the soul of an old shooter
you’re just a young gunner, learning how to maneuver
there’s no leeway on this freeway
itchy trigger fingers get scratched like the sweepstakes
you never know
that’s why we keep the metal close
and we ain’t afraid to make the whistle like kettle smoke
king sevin

[outro: troy ave]
they kettle smoke as a motherf-cker
you n-ggas, you don’t want no smoke
i ain’t even gotta rap, my n-ggas got it
bsb records, the brand
the people’s brand
that brand you can trust and believe in
dope boy troy
got eight thousand dollars in my pocket for no motherf-cking reason
and i’m about to go pick up more money
i ain’t even gonna say no more
[what you say when you got?] eight thousand in your pocket for no reason
you ain’t gotta say no more
feel like putting bars in this b-tch so bad
this be hard, right?
‘ey you n-ggas don’t loop this sh-t and try to put your verses on it
this bsb sh-t
uh, duh-duh, d-duh d-duh, dun-duh, d-dun d-duh
aight, we can let it breathe

- young lito lyrics

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