Kevo Muney - Sell Out

(Memphis Track Boy, Memphis Track Boy)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, huh, yeah, yeah, yeah (Fly as a jet)
Kevo Muney yeah, yeah, yeah (Turn up)
Turn up, turn up, turn up, turn up
Huh, huh, huh (Track Nation)

How you got money, but can't even bail out?
You want a show, you book me, it's a sellout

I send a message, ain't givin' no mail-out
I got the city headlock like a dreadlock
And where was you when they
Was callin' me "Junkie"?
Even in wintertime, ice sunny
I call up Sloppy, he pull up, he dump it
Did what you wanna do, already done it
I don't see nothin' on your waist
Whеre your gun at?
I got some niggas gon' shoot
Wherе I point at i caught the bomb and I
Ran where they punt that
I love my cousin, he crazy, his drunk ass
I want the bitches, never been an outcast
She say, "Kevo
You be fresh with your fat ass"
Walkin' 'round the hood
They like, "Kevione, lil' bad ass"
And I come to Memphis to rock out a show
When I'm done with that show
I'm back outta the city
I'm never stoppin', man
I'm never quittin'
Fuck a detective, fuck a lieutenant
I do not fuck with the police or snitches
I'm just one man
I can't save all these bitches
Kevo Muney, hottest youngin in the city
I just been fuckin' these bitches
You know I'ma peep, but don't call me D
Everybody told me get out of Memphis
Walk down the street, I was writing graffiti
I went to New York City for a meet
I walk in the buildin', everybody greet me
I walk in the bitch and everybody see me
Don't come in my life
Don't come in my life
If you gonna leave me, you gonna leave me
Every night, every night
I pray to get easy, pray to get easy
And I'm at the top
These niggas can't see me
They so beneath me, they so beneath me
And I can't even drive, want a Lamborghini
Lamborghini, Lamborghini

But how you got money
But can't even bail out?
You want a show, you book me
It's a sell-out

Ayy, if you wan' book me, I need about fifty
A hundred or better, depend on the city
Bringin' the gang and they
Comin' in with me a nigga look wrong and
I'm poppin' his fitted
You know when I pop out
I'm bringin' the city
And my bitch comin' with me
I'm grippin' her titties
Automatic, this is not a semi and
My Glock got a Jimmy
Ain't doin' no jammin'
Where's the bread? You know I'm a bandit
Leave my kids on her head, then I'ma abandon
Two sticks in the Phantom, we ride in Atlanta
We seein' our mans, we ready to stamp 'em
If he a reason, we leave him deceased
Line a nigga up like he had a crease
Shoot up the crib, make him cancel the lease
We might do him so bad
He might call the police, brr

Written by:
James Baker, Jarven Harris, Jordan Houston, Paul Beauregard

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave

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