a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

eye pray - yvng god lyrics

[intro: gucci mane & yvng god]
huh
i’d like to thank god
yvng god on the wave!
it’s gucci!

[chorus: gucci mane]
god, oh god, oh god, oh god
i hope i get the dope
i hope i beat this case
i hope i touch down with the blow
i pray, i pray, i pray, i pray
i touch down with the ‘yo
god, oh god, oh god, oh god
i thank you for the dope

[verse 1: lil yachty]
thank you my lord
fendi band-aid for my sores
flex all my ice on my wh-r-s
they love that bling when it blang
my triple-two shooter, he stay with that ruger
he’ll do ya, do ya, if you act like you ’bout it
winnin’ a beef with lil boat? b-tch i doubt it (f-ck nah)
tweeted that b-tch back now she feelin’ clouted
b-tch, shut the f-ck up, call me father
new diamond chain, look proper
gold cartiers got me looking like a robber
chillin’ in the studio, with gunmen and robbers
but ayy what it do, guwop?
old n-gg-s hate boat, the new hip-hop
and i bet that just made you mad
b-tch, f-ck ’em
it’s lil boat!

[verse 2: p. reign]
yeah, fishtail off the lot
ten pairs of gators, the kicks made of crocs
snakeskin band on the watch
just bought a new mink and my b-tch is a fox
kilos, kilos, so much keisha weighs what an elephant does
everybody heavy, we got elephant love
took a page out of plies and ran off on the plug
bentleys, all about the benji’s
just blew ten g’s on jet li’s
all kicks, bricks flawless
when they ask how i do it i say “all wrist”
when they ask ’bout my clique i say “all b-tch”
bought a brick in new york, sold it in all nicks
my new b-tch ask who all hit (who you with?)
i tell her “whoa there,” it’s a long list

[verse 3: fa$t life]
dash, fast, pull up in that gas back
smokin’ kush out that trashbag
savage dawg, oh my god, what? you made me mad
don’t you ever gon’ make me mad
i’ve been gettin’ cash, i’ve been gettin’ that extra tax
put a [?] inside the [?]
no cap and gown, got yo b-tch on a cap-me-down
every time she just wipe me down
gon’ and flex on me, n-gg-s, i’ll flex on you n-gg-s
got racks for these b-tches, we pay for these hoes
i’ve been getting money and it go, and it go
everybody always know we gon’ blow
all these b-tches know praying for blow
sellin’ that snort, snow on the bluff
got that 30, that 40, don’t ever act up

[verse 4: rich the kid]
young n-gg-, i’m playin’ with the yola, coca-cola
choppin’ the block with the cola
look at my wrist it’s on polo
yeah we winnin’, i’ma keep on winnin’
n-gg-s hatin’, i’m gon’ keep on jiggin’
ayy, pulled up, my ceilin’ was missin’
young rich n-gg- on the top now
is she bad? is she foreign? give me top now
ayy, i just can’t stop… six b-tches
f-ck your b-tch make her go missin’
you cuffin’ that ho, you trippin’
walk out the bank with a bankroll
wrist too cold

- yvng god lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular