T.I. and Young Thug - Ring
Yeah (DY Krazy)You young Gs and OGs, you know (DJ on the beat so it's a banger
That choppa though
I let it ring (brrt)
You know what I mean (yeah)
I don't drink green (uh uh)
I need my cream (let's go)
I just wanna cum on her (what?)
Her face and her spleen
I just wanna let that bitch (what?)
Let that bitch ring
When shit get wrong, it can't go right
Now I've been known to get shit blown
Up outta proportion for most sake
Be careful with your body, put that on ice
I'm not gon' tweet, I'm not gon' type
Whatever you say, okay, alright
You pick your fate, you pay your price
Just know I do not play, alright, alright
Yeah, lil buddy acting hard (what?)
I send 'em to God (I send 'em to God)
My dawg like dodge (ay)
They pull up and charge (they pull up and ay)
I'm riding the ten speed (skrrt)
It's hard to pull out the 'rage (yeah)
It's dark I'm fucking your daughter (yeah)
They twins, I'm Mr. Rogers
Now this is a problem with a hundred thousand dollars in the truck
Ain't talk shit, we follow them punks
You cross that line, everybody getting ducked
Fast forward twenty five years, and I grew up
Nigga talk shit, don't do shit to 'em
Press that line and your string get pulled
Got a problem, bring it to 'em
Just don't be so immature
I let it ring (brrt)
You know what I mean (yeah)
I don't drink green (uh uh)
I need my cream (let's go)
I just wanna cum on her (what?)
Her face and her spleen
I just wanna let that bitch (what?)
Let that bitch ring
When shit get wrong, it can't go right
Now I've been known to get shit blown
Up outta proportion for most sake
Be careful with your body, put that on ice
I'm not gon' tweet, I'm not gon' type
Whatever you say, okay, alright
You pick your fate, you pay your price
Just know I do not play, alright, alright
This shit's on sight, don't blame it on strike
Don't blame it on ice, don't blame it on drink
I took a lil' X, I fuck on my ex
I did a lil' wrong, I'm making it right
Where did he go? He ran out back
He must've ran track, I slash his back
I got war wounds, under my tats
I got a few Bloods, they all say Slatt
I got a few Crips, they all on neck
I bust on her lips, but not her back
that's not my bitch, that's not my neck
I'm just her pimp, I'm not her dad
The cops pulled me over, they smelled my thrax
It's not my gat, but them my racks
Them my lewis and them my Slatts
And that's my car and that's my bitch
Ain't none of your concern, keep me outta that shit, nigga
All on my dick, tryna follow my bitch
If you catch me in Vegas, I'ma catch a new case
Fifty niggas with you and I'ma be in your face
Nigga think this shit a game, bet his ass get stabbed
Nineteen in the clip, let his ass get had
Best case scenario, get your ass kidnapped
Worst case, end up in a plastic bag
Without order there is chaos
Never let 'em handle a nigga
Motherfuckin' player, I do it like in Atlanta, nigga
You do that shit for IG and the fucking camera
You 'gon be happy 'til someone teach you some fucking manners
When shit get wrong, it can't go right
Now I've been known to get shit blown
Up outta proportion for most sake
Be careful with your body, put that on ice
I'm not gon' tweet, I'm not gon' type
Whatever you say, okay, alright
You pick your fate, you pay your price
Just know I do not play, alright, alright
I let it ring (brrt)
You know what I mean (yeah)
I don't drink green (uh uh)
I need my cream (let's go)
I just wanna cum on her (what?)
Her face and her spleen
I just wanna let that bitch (what?)
Let that bitch ring
You know what the fuck going on with us, man
Written by:
Clifford Harris, Darrel Jackson, Dwan Avery, Jeffery Williams
Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
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