[Intro]
Hit-Boy
[Verse 1: DaBoii]
Niggas thought that it was over, bitch, I think not
If I talk to this bitch nice, she'll give mean top
You niggas still ain’t seen ten, y'all ain't seen guap
And I just put it in her stomach, that’s her G-spot
Everybody think that bitch loyal, we don't see not
Spent nine hundred on some kicks that look like Reeboks
All these colors in my chain, I'm a peacock
And you the type to pull the trigger while it's de-cocked
You play dumb and go blind when you see opps
And his bitch tryna pull my jack out the beanstalk
And my mama raised a man, I ain't need pops
If they don't wanna pay no homage, bitch, we need props, bitch
[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
Young nigga lane switching in the foreign
I ain't nothin' like your nigga ’cause he broke and he boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, bitch, we scoring
Brodie-bro up that Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain’t finna do shit, don't speak on shit
Give a fuck about your nigga, he don’t be on shit
I don't need no nigga, I don't need no bitch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don’t need no lip
[Verse 2: Yhung T.O.]
I would if I could, I can't speak on it
That chain ain't him, ain't no D on it
And this a tennis, not no real chain
And brodie-bro on probation, usin' bro name
Ayy, throw it back, let me see something
If you ain't never left the hood, you ain't see nothing
The real niggas just gon' shoot with less discussion
Niggas still claim that block but don't be from it
[Verse 3: Slimmy B]
Said you on me, when you see me, better bust then
Bought a Jag the first time I ever touched ten
Grimy nigga, ain't no bitch want to fuck then
Ring the bell, kick the door, then we rush in
Really in the field, bitch, we outside sliding
Niggas say they really in the field, but they hiding
Young fly nigga, shit, I could've been a pilot
All I talk is cash, broke niggas stay silent
Hop up out the Wraith, doors on that suicide shit
I don't even want to fuck your bitch, too much mileage
You the type to walk the whole mall and never buy shit
Pussy nigga thinking I'm a lick, come and try it
[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
Young nigga lane switching in the foreign
I ain't nothin' like your nigga 'cause he broke and he boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, bitch, we scoring
Brodie-bro up that Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain't finna do shit, don't speak on shit
Give a fuck about your nigga, he don't be on shit
I don't need no nigga, I don't need no bitch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don't need no lip
