YoungBoy Never Broke Again - Ten Talk
Ayy, hello? (Who is this?)I just got off the phone with DDawg (not gonna say)
Ayy, you keep stuck up in your ways, you gon' fall, time (goddamn, nigga)
Man, I know that shit, nigga
Yeah, don't know, ayy, pull up, though
I ran up that money so muthafuckin' high
Ayy, I swear to God I could stop rappin' now
Nigga, I don't give a fuck about what you think, bitch
I can't take the clean route, I'm G'd up
They talk down, I'm rich now, lil' nigga, I can head home
Fresh up outta cell block and fill up an arena
I'm turnt up, you try and get your face blown
I'm smokin' on doja, I pull up rollin' on some ignant shit
Know the opp pack potent, police pull us over, bitch, get rid of it
Motherfuck them shows, I ain't leavin' my home, bitch, I'm really rich
And I'm so caught up in my ways I tend to all that shit
Order 750 from the bank and they say, "Goddamn"
I ain't gotta walk in, I just call, they know who I am
Flex on Instagram and go to tweakin', seem like I spam
So many plaques around this bitch, fuck who don't like what I'm sayin'
Swervin' in that Lamb' with the gang, we all tool totin'
You start this shit, on Dump, we end it with them tools blowin'
Pussy, I was tryna buy a soul but my bro stole it
Swipe so much, interior rig, I think my car totaled
Yeah, fuck your lingo, how you bummin', nigga?
I'ma post the Trey on 38, I hear ya comin' nigga
Prolly got my stick out with a big ass stack of hundreds, nigga
Better have your stick out, we let six off when you turnin' nigga
How you get them cars and all that jewelry nigga?
I don't know
How you spent that money and still got millions nigga?
I don't know
How ya got all them bitches and don't want one nigga?
I don't know
Why you actin' slow? Nigga, fuck it, let your chrome blow
(Ayy, why you been on some stupid shit with everybody YoungBoy?)
Nigga, I don't know
(Ayy, why you feel like all these hoes ain't shit?)
Nigga, I don't know
(Ayy, I really do know but I really don't know, but look here)
Nigga, I don't know
(Ayy, just rolled a blunt up and light the strong, nigga, fuck)
Pussy nigga, say that you want smoke, then let your chrome blow
Bitch stop all that hatin', just come say somethin' with your own folk
Jumpin' in that Maybach, in my Styrofoam, red dope
I'm full of pills, in my Bentley, who that is? Your ho
Why them bitches don't want nominate Lil Top? I don't wan' know
I'm from the streets, I got that guap, this shit I'm blessed for
This shit around my wrist'll get you popped or get you stepped on
But on the other end, I don't get nothin' less than one-fifty
A show
How you get them cars and all that jewelry nigga?
I don't know
How you spent that money and still got millions nigga?
I don't know
How ya got all them bitches and don't want one nigga?
I don't know
Why you actin' slow? Nigga, fuck it, let your chrome blow
I can't take the clean route, I'm G'd up
They talk down, I'm rich now, lil' nigga, I can head home
Fresh up outta cell block and fill up an arena
I'm turnt up, you try and get your face blown
Savage nigga, I don't know
Uh, yeah, Lil Top, nigga, I don't know
Bitch on Vogue, nigga, I don't know
Who I'm fuckin' with, that's your ho
Written by:
Brandon Russell, Kentrell Desean Gaulden
Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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