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bar codes - youngs teflon lyrics

[intro: youngs teflon]
yeah
(hahaha, richmade)
this that five below sh*t
this that rich made sh*t
don’t come outside without your bally on (uh*huh)
check it (yeah)

[verse 1: youngs teflon]
i’m a good yute but i know how to use a semi (yeah)
these n*ggas too red eye (uh)
back of the beamer, got a tv, it’s a li
black kf1s when i’m feelin’ like a rebel (uh)
turn me to a sith, i grew up tryin’ to be a jedi (i swear)
but i ain’t finished trainin’
had to wipe my eyes when i done it, it was rainin’
ways that we sling, not the gym, we still gainin’ (uh*uh)
ask me how i’m doin’, i’m juist pain*maintainin’ (i guess)
new chromе spinners, but it’s lookin’ like the old onе
no safety on it, gotta feel it with the gold ones
you ain’t never ratted with the n*ggas who got told on me
my sword big like chunkz, n*ggas switched up, like “go hard”
told my youngins “chill”, but they not easy (uh*uh)
they be tryin’ to turn you to a ghost without a ouija
n*ggas grieve with envy, they luigi (huh?)
pockets full of sweets, these ain’t haribos
drop your mac, pin, and we gon’ fix you like mario (hee*hee)
[chorus: youngs teflon]
this fl!ck so good, it came from panama (panama)
my booter give it two, he from a yamaha (grrt)
half my brothers been reminded on a hammer charge (half)
it’s been a cycle since we had it on the handle bar (now what they say, y’all?)
still, we spit the real rap, the outsiders can’t relate (they can’t)
this that double*barrel, badder clove, it’s master tape (all of that)
from a town where we sold brown, eating after eights
relegate you broad*day, don’t wait ’til it’s after eight

[verse 2: youngs teflon]
i’m a good yute, but i know how to use a spinners (uh)
the n*ggas too inner
back of the beamer, got a table, what’s for dinner?
devil may cry wolf, but n0body gon’ hear you (shh)
mommy’s little angels, how i turn it to a sinner? (how?)
but, i ain’t done repentin’
keep an extra pair of gloves, ’cause i ain’t done trenchin’ (uh*uh)
i ain’t done clenchin’
jimmy conway or jimmy henchman
lift the whole .36 and i don’t even bench in (now, what you say, y’all?)
catch me watchin’ sopranos, eatin’ pasta
thirty*eight slugs, all gold, like the bafta’s (uh)
push him in the mug, we call him factures
they goin’ through the walls like caspar
told me, i’m just chill, but they won’t have a bar (no)
they just wanna go and do a massacre
the rise that they movin’, like my manager
you ever put your addy in a sacknap?
they ain’t bring a phone, but they gon’ turn you to a hashtag
[chorus: youngs teflon]
this fl!ck so good, it came from panama
my booter give it two, he from a yamaha=
half my brothers been reminded on a hammer charge
it’s been a cycle since we had it on the handle bar
still, we spit the real rap, the outsiders can’t relate
this that double*barrel, badder clove, it’s master tape
from a town where we sold brown, eating after eights (uh*huh)
relegate you broad*day, don’t wait ’til it’s after eight

- youngs teflon lyrics

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