Najee Thomas - YAMSDAY (A Floridian Freestyle) (feat. King Lukee)

They killed ya cousin
And fucked ya bitch
They told me you ain't slide
Damn
That's one on the board
Yea
That couldn't be me or my guys
Na
I got opps rolled up in blunts
You know we hold them high
Why they talking like they know me
They must be dumb as fuck
I like the smell of gun smoke
That shit boost my adrenaline
Please attention
No Ritalin
I'm making moves like a criminal
Pack up a brick
Then we shipping it
Hop on a flight
Then we disappear
How can I
Stop
This money got me feeling different
Living life lavish
Then I turned into a savage
Mama lm so sorry
These streets chose me
But we had to eat
Watched my best friend die
How the fuck can I sleep
Pop another perky
Take it straight to the moon
Now I feel like a beast
Got weed in the east
But take flights to the west
Fuck a bitch from the north
Got a girl from the south
With a pretty lil mouth
Hold up
Wait
They thought that I couldn't rap
I fuck the beat and I nut
I ain't call back
You fuck with slime
Then you might end up dead
We aim for the head
Fill ya body with lead
See how we move
We at the top
See how we groove
Not gonna stop
Shut the fuck up
Gimme the slop
Takin ya bitch
Now you know she a thot
Here we go
Fuckin ya mami
Speaking the truth but I know
Ya can't stand it
Hittin the streets
Eyein' all of the candy
Come to the Telly
Got all the keys handy
Open the doors
Get real dandy
All on the floors
Callin me daddy
I'm on a tour
Fuckin the nanny
Fuck ya face
Pass me ya granny
Talkin my shit
What the fuck can you do
Lemme just leave you
With somethin to true
You just a bitch
But you already knew
Slob on my shit
But fuck outta my coup
They killed ya cousin
And fucked ya bitch
They told me you ain't slide
Damn
That's one on the board
Yea
That couldn't be me or my guys
Na
I got opps rolled up in blunts
You know we hold them high
Why they talking like they know me
They must be dumb as fuck
I like the smell of gun smoke
That shit boost my adrenaline
Please attention
No Ritalin
I'm making moves like a criminal
Pack up a brick
Then we shipping it
Hop on a flight
Then we disappear
How can I
Stop
This money got me feeling different

Written by:
Najee Thomas

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find