Yeat - Hatër

Yeah
I came with a blick, I just brought the fire (bah)
I can't fuck with none of these lames, they all fuckin' lie (what?)
Bitch, you know this get insane, you could fuckin' die (yeah, yeah)
I just pulled up in a Bentley, it got frog eyes (yeah, woo, yeah)
I'm a fire guy, walked inside the building with this grease, I'm serving Five Guys
You ain't got no racks, ain't got no bags, you can't even fuck with us, ah
You ain't got your swag, ain't got no bags, you can't even fuck with us, ah
They some haters, they ain't fuckin' with the mob, ah
Bitch, you broke, that ain't with me, it's not my job, nah
All my money do a jump and do a job (lil' jump), ah
When you pull up with the blick, yeah, we gon' stretch him (bah-bah-bah)
All my pockets overloaded, it's overwhelming, ah
How you know 'bout all this shit? Man, you a fuckin' spy (what?)
We got mob ties, baby, got a felon
Fuckin' on your thot, she suckin' dick, she bring the mail in (go)

Bitch, I get the head, I get her melon
Ridin' 'round the city like a demon, like a villain
Bitch, I take these Percocets all day, I ain't got no feeling
Ridin' in a Double-R Tonka, baby, stars in the ceiling
Ooh, yeah, hey, walkin' in the building, I'ma gon' pull it up
We been up all day, I'm off Adderall (okay)
He just pulled up in a Lamb', no, I'm not your friend (fuck 'em)
Fuckin' on your thot, fuckin' on your friend (fuck 'em)
I can't fuck with nobody that's not my best friend (not my friend)
I just bought a brand new chain, a brand new necklace, yeah
Ridin' in a Bentley, ridin' in a tank
I can't fuckin' with nobody, I'm standin' firm
I just took a Percocet, I took a crank, I'm insane

Yeah
I came with a blick, I just brought the fire (bah)
I can't fuck with none of these lames, they all fuckin' lie (what?)
Bitch, you know this get insane, you could fuckin' die (yeah, yeah)
I just pulled up in a Bentley, it got frog eyes (yeah, woo, yeah)
I'm a fire guy, walked inside the building with this grease, I'm serving Five Guys
You ain't got no racks, ain't got no bags, you can't even fuck with us, ah
You ain't got your swag, ain't got no bags, you can't even fuck with us, ah
They some haters, they ain't fuckin' with the mob, ah
Bitch, you broke, that ain't with me, it's not my job, nah
All my money do a jump and do a job (lil' jump), ah
When you pull up with the blick, yeah, we gon' stretch him (bah-bah-bah)
All my pockets overloaded, it's overwhelming, ah
How you know 'bout all this shit? Man, you a fuckin' spy (what?)
We got mob ties, baby, got a felon
Fuckin' on your thot, she suckin' dick, she bring the mail in (go)

Written by:
Jonah Abraham, Kenneth Pannu, Noah Smith, Pierre Thevenot, Stefan Cismigiu

Publisher:
Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find