tell me some - youngboy never broke again lyrics
[intro]
ayy, you say, ayy 38
(dubba*aa flexin’)
(i need to talk to mike laury, h*llo? this mike laury)
(this is the sound)
f*ck that, rock out
[chorus]
heard this n*gga actin’ like he wanna see me
hold up, bust his f*ckin’ cantaloupe and front street him in 3*d
put that d*ck on her and tried to slide, she said that “you can’t leave me”
i’ma real street n*gga, f*ck whoever that ain’t with me
they got d*dawg with the tech, come out the back and spray ’round
[?] the p*ssy b*tch gon’ feel the same after he feel this k round
don’t f*ck around with n*ggas or these b*tches, you can’t put the bape don’t
soon as i leave the city, zip ’em, stupid b*tch, now lay down
and i’ma real rich n*gga, those brokе hoes [?]
i’m just steady poppin’ percs and drinkin’ act in maybach [?]
had to tеll that b*tch “i been that”, i be loaded on that dog food
tryna [?], but a.i. got the tricks, i bet i get ’em all
i say “why these n*ggas throwin’ shots?” d*dawg say “slatt”
run down and ask ’em ’bout the tweet, like be exact ’cause you ain’t that
not at atlantic, i’ma be at paramount up in the back
ain’t gotta speak on who i wack, b*tch, you gon’ catch these thirty racks (on dump)
[verse]
catch you tryna leave, cutta rip all [?]
he ain’t gang, he gon’ leave ’em slump
we gon’ bang ’till somebody done
so if you ’bout it, then tell me, we cross fire for forever
retaliate and then i guess we all dyin’ forever, i’m slime
i keep my gun up in my pants, who gon’ tell me some’?
and i just want the b*tch to flash and we gon’ bust his ass
every n*gga with me crank and they gon’ bang, i’m tryna turn up bad
why you talkin’ while i’m leanin’? i know you mad ’cause you ain’t that
f*ck you b*tch, i mean that, gettin’ dirty with his clean ass
let a n*gga play right now, that’s on my momma, you should [?]
b*tch, you know we ‘bout the drama, keep the llama in my jean pant
blow this b*tch up like osama, nba flag with a beam, man
[chorus]
heard this n*gga actin’ like he wanna see me
hold up, bust his f*ckin’ cantaloupe and front street him in 3*d
put that d*ck on her and tried to slide, she said that “you can’t leave me”
i’ma real street n*gga, f*ck whoever that ain’t with me
they got d*dawg with the tech, come out the back and spray ’round
[?] the p*ssy b*tch gon’ feel the same after he feel this k round
don’t f*ck around with n*ggas or these b*tches, you can’t put the bape don’t
soon as i leave the city, zip ’em, stupid b*tch, now lay down
and i’ma real rich n*gga, those broke hoes [?]
i’m just steady poppin’ percs and drinkin’ act in maybach [?]
had to tell that b*tch “i been that”, i be loaded on that dog food
tryna [?], but a.i. got the tricks, i bet i get ’em all
i say “why these n*ggas throwin’ shots?” d*dawg say “slatt”
run down and ask ’em ’bout the tweet, like be exact ’cause you ain’t that
not at atlantic, i’ma be at paramount up in the back
ain’t gotta speak on who i wack, b*tch, you gon’ catch these thirty racks (b*tch, catch that)
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