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speaker knockers - ysr dee rich lyrics

[intro]
(bs*motherf*ckin’*m)

[verse 1: ysr dee rich]
dee rich a b*tch, he ain’t ’bout it, i’ma put him on a tee
same n*gga said that got my song on repeat
he fresh outta high school, now he runnin’ with a heat
them kinda n*ggas be the first to die from tryna act street
i talked to gabe, he told me stay ahead, i swear you got the key
pop your sh*t, they ain’t f*ckin’ with you, boy, that’s on me
keep your glock just in case a n*gga think some sh*t sweet
get your get*back on doggy, put that boy next to me
free dblack, mister hop out with that k and make a flip
i ain’t worried ’bout that boy, he just talkin’ out his lip
i feel like kodak, this a dirty k that’s with me in the whip
you try to run, that’s your ass, i’ma make you do a flip
[verse 2: doggang cory]
cory ain’t on sh*t, he ain’t really gettin’ pape’
the samе n*gga talkin’ crazy caught some bullets to the facе
fresh off probation, sick as h*ll i just caught another case
n*gga talkin’ ’bout i’m broke, man, that n*gga must be laced
headshot, ain’t no aimin’ at his body, we gon’ k!ll him
doggang, if i whistle, bet them k!llers go and get him
you ain’t really got a bag, you the malcolm in the middle
this ho just asked me ’bout my music, now my baby mama trippin’, tryna k!ll her
we can start a marching band in this b*tch, every stick came with a drum
k’s bustin’ out the whip, we ain’t into one*on*ones
i don’t want your b*tch p*ssy, i been f*ckin’ on her tongue
k bullets like some smoke how they f*ckin’ up his lungs

[verse 3: six ward von]
i’m with my white boy, he tryna act black like lil pump
pushed his ass in the back, but he was sittin’ in the front
i walked in by myself, it’s just me and my cup
a n*gga died in my hood, but i was chillin’ in the buck
i was f*ckin’ off a perc’, i couldn’t even get a nut
he got k!lled at the mall gettin’ fly, he a duck
he ain’t sellin’ nothin’, he just get high, but he the plug
i know a n*gga wanna be just like me, he my son
ridin’ ’round with some big sh*t in the wrong area
told dee rich put the heat up, he got the hoes scared
why he keep actin’ like a gangster? he a whole fed
got his ass beat inside the county, it’s a code red
[verse 4: ysr dee rich]
i’m a hothead, when i leave the crib, i bring the heat out
liquor bullets, opps wanna drink, let’s have a drink*out
walkin’ downtown to ocean drive with my feet out
gucci shoes to the bend, you know i had to bring the tee out
freaky b*tch tryna f*ck*f*ck, let’s have a freak*out
told her bring her friend, sh*t, she brung three out
this b*tch gave me good*ass head, she made me skeet out
you got a thousand for a feature? say no more, pull a beat out

[verse 5: six ward von]
this a longsleeve, b*tch, pull a seat out
she told me grab her by the throat, bring the freak out
i’m a gangster and a rapper, i can’t eat out
i was just in saginaw, i’m in the d now
i’m with my lil’ scammin’ b*tch from the eastside
she don’t talk after we f*ck, she throw the peace sign
she talkin’ d*ck on the actin’*like*she*sleep side
lil’ boy, i need a band just to freestyle
i’ll pop ’em, then skate like i’m p*child
turn around, catch his ass on the rebound
ayy, rell, this b*tch too loud, turn the beat down
i got a sign on the trap that say “keep out”

[verse 6: doggang cory]
no joy road, but bullets exit out a 9
three bullets hit his head, the other four f*cked up his spine
n*gga called me for a ten, gave his ass a point*five
n*ggas don’t drop sh*t, they get a gun and go live
i’m a demon, n*gga seen me out the window and he took off
quarterback, i get to throwin’ bullets like it’s football
i catch an opp and drop thirty— aight
i catch an opp and drop thirty, you the type to have a look*off
[outro]
(bs*motherf*ckin’*m)

- ysr dee rich lyrics

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