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yn jay & rmc mike – i eat good كلمات اغاني

[intro: yn jay & rmc mike]
you cannot smoke with me, we don’t smoke the same
keep it on, man
yeah, what you doin’, man?
keep it on, man (yep)
let’s get it on, man
hey
they like, “aw, man”
sh_t
alright
hah, okay
[verse 1: rmc mike]
pulled up with a big b_tch like i eat good
i just slid down a n_gga block in a fleetwood
please throw that weed in the garbage, it got a— alright
please throw that weed in the garbage, it got a weak pull
i’ll park this b_tch in your house if— ah
i’ll park this b_tch in your house if the street full
flint came to take over the game, we got the key to it
chartin’ higher than your favorite rapper, i’m a street n_gga
ten milli’ glued to my hip, i go to sleep with it
i just hopped in my trick bag, this a flea fl!cker
spittin’ fire in this b_tch now, left the beat injured
pull up in a real racecar with one seat in it
kinda f_cked up, i upped dog, you can keep this one

[verse 2: ysr gramz]
if you shoot, my n_gga shoot, he a defender
you got your first gun at eighteen, you a beginner
oh, you talk behind my back? you a sneak disser
you wanna learn the flint flow? we’ll teach n_ggas
oh, you got b00boo weed? you can keep this one
she done sucked everybody d_ck and you keep kissin’ her
og don’t smoke backwoods, he smoke all swishers
i wish my n_gga dre was here so i can ball with him
my n_gga only 5’4″, he got a tall pistol
when i used to fall off, i used to call crystal
big bullets in the .308, we shot all missiles
ain’t too many b_tches in this world that’ll fall with you
big backwood in the hood, stuffed a log in it
jay finna run his money up, i’m finna jog with him
[verse 3: yn jay]
all your kids suckin’ on your titties, you got dog nipples
call of duty, if i airstrike, i can call missiles
n_gga, you ain’t even got no gun, that’s your dog pistol
beat a n_gga ass karate style, it was all jitsu
twenty_three hundred for the dog, that’s a cheap bully
pickin’ on n_ggas broke as h_ll, you a cheap bully
fill the bullets up to the top, got my heat fully
i just hit the yeah on my glock, got my heat fully
drop ninety_seven out a hundred, let my heat cool
b_tch walkin’ with some lil’ feet and some big shoes
know a b_tch with a flat ass, but got big b00bs
i can see your b_tch in the club, she on my d_ck too
she f_ck everybody in the city, you pay rent too
oh, you talkin’ ’bout like you payin’ for other n_ggas to like, stay at her crib? or like, you mean, like—
b_tch throw doonies— d_mn
b_tch throw doonies from the back, she— ah
b_tch throw doonies from the back, she suck d_ck too
bony b_tch dancin’ in the club, i see sticks move
you the type that flash your b_tch money, that’s your b_tch blues
you ain’t know i had my gun on me? i’m the stick dude
b_tch ask, “who the coochie man?” that’s the pimp dude
bad b_tch coochie good as f_ck, it got grip too

[verse 4: rmc mike]
punch a n_gga dead in his— ah
punch a n_gga dead in his mouth, he got a chipped tooth
count a million dollars out in cash, it’s a big move
built my oldie up from the ground like i’m chip foose
open haters ridin’ down the street, make that b_tch p__p
ooh, it’s a big deuce
all_gold desert eagle on me, got some kick to it
take over the world, they can’t f_ck with this flint music

- yn jay rmc mike

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