YBC Zyn - No Hook

Cut off like a tag
The Prada my jacket, it match with the rafs
And I've been independent, I'm stuck in my bag
So my Jordan One's special, I mix em with frags
Been dreaming of money, I'm tired of the rags
Know I said you couldn't be me, you chilling with rats
Promise paper my vision, my eyes on the racks
Said the way we turnt up, we turnt up like some frats
She call me Zyn but she love me like brad
I swear that she knew me, that girl was brat
With the pretty long hair, and the booty was fat
And I'm gon make a promise that shordie was bad
Do this for my momma, I'm making her glad
You ain't worried bout none, on the inside you sad
Since you texting me stupid, you gon get me mad
Kicked me out calling peta, I'm beating the cat
And my top Louie V, know I'm needing a match
Said she love my attention, she fiending for that
But I already told her I can't be attached
Plus I heard that you broke like you needing a cast
That's the wrong kinda broke, heard you needing some cash
Lots of fish in the sea, so I might take a cast
But I already know, ain't no fish I can't catch
If you know that I feel her, she feeling me back
Soon as I got the money, I'm heading to sacks
Cut her right off, cause she talking be wack
Like I do not care what you did in the past
The Nike tech fleece, balaclava the mask
She blowing my phone, she be begging to smash
Like I'm one of those bro's but I can't be the last
These VV's be glowing, get blind with the flash
Asking where's the old me, girl I'm sorry he past
It's the new YBC with the feet on the dash
And I need me a whip, I be speeding with that
I said put it safe, ain't no keys on the mat
If you talk on my family, I'm keeping the gat
Said I'm gon be a star, so I'm reaching for that
And my homie he had it, was pushing the skat
And since you be talking, get picked like a scab
And she keep saying papi, but I'm not her dad
Got a folder of pictures, put me in the stash
And I need the browns, I ain't dealing with hash
You pick off my plate, like you needing some mash
And I'm bout the money, like I'm Mr Krabs
Why I live in the booth, girl I'm stuck in the lab
Soon as I'm home you can sit on this lap
Call it McDonald's she loving a mac
Cause she seeing my jewelry wet like the tap
I went through struggles, I had to adapt
She said work it out, we ain't worried bout lats
I'm just worried why you steady lie in your raps
I run it up, we ain't talking bout laps

Written by:
Sterling May

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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