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ysr gramz - hotlist lyrics
[intro]
(enrgy made this one)
[verse 1: ysr gramz]
i been stuntin’ since a youngin, now i’m sak runnin’
when i touch my first m, i’ma tat the sak runner
told lil’ bro watch the block, let us know if the ‘cat comin’
doggy got popped last week, now he back thuggin’
i see you dropped your first chain, n_gga, that’s nothin’
i’ma ride for my dog like we blood cousins
told kidd i got his back ’cause we mud brothers
i’m in cali, not at home, got some drugs comin’
n_ggas hard on the ‘net, but they love duckin’
love money, don’t love hoes, but i love f_ckin’
my n_gga like to shoot to k!ll, he don’t love nothin’
my lil’ n_gga fell in love with pills, he a love junkie
how is you a real n_gga, don’t give your dogs nothin’?
if i fall off right now, i know my dogs comin’
he got pitbulls for sale, he a dog lovеr
put a switch on the glock, they can’t take covеr
[verse 2: icewear vezzo]
yeah, ghetto baby, all my n_ggas on that hotlist (on that hotlist)
rich as f_ck, still grind like i ain’t got sh_t (for real, n_gga)
you got a plain rollie on, that’s a stock wrist (that’s a plain jane)
up that mopstick, n_ggas opps and still ain’t drop sh_t (ain’t drop nothin’)
buy the load off the plug, we ain’t splittin’ bags (nah)
thirty thousand in my pants, this my tippin’ bag (thirty bands)
audemars with vvs, spent a brick and half (vvss)
trap money, real displayer, twenties trippin’ fast (fast, n_gga)
made a million off of shows, i bought eighty sticks (no cap)
in the club, f_ck a party, b_tch, we takin’ kits (p_ssy)
lil’ gang ‘nem whackin’ sh_t for an eight of tris (for an eight)
heavy bag, dog too strong, it ain’t takin’ fent’ (woo)
i ain’t beefin’ with no rapper, i got real money (i got real paper)
slide in hutch, f_ck around and spend your deal money (hah)
pour a pint of quagen up, sn_tch the seal off it
dead presidents in my safe, that’s a real coffin (that’s a real coffin)
richest n_gga that my neighborhood done ever seen (facts)
new rolls_royce, crack the forgios on evergreen (sh_t)
burnt out off the mud, pour the red in threes (threes)
had more cheese than they havin’ now when i was sellin’ lean (n_ggas ever seen)
you want the jewelry that i got, you gotta get a bag (gotta run it up)
we came up from that old boy just like k!lla cam (oh, that dog food)
yeah, twenty_sixes on the track’, look like i’m in a ram
froze wrist, count up dog sh_t with my n_gga gramz, b_tch (what it look like?)
[verse 3: ysr gramz]
he don’t know if he gon’ shoot, is he cut or not?
oh, that’s only a twenty_ball, n_gga, cut it out
send a hundred at they crib, now they runnin’ out
they was beefin’ last year, now they brothers now
i don’t like my n_ggas in the club, they be buggin’ out
bro was f_cked up last year, he get money now
we got twenty ‘bows in this crib, get off clubhouse
he dropped out of school, he sixteen, he got a dub now
i know n_ggas that drop sh_t, make me call ’em up
i’ll put my gun down, you get knotted up
got into it with my pockets, now they knotted up
i see you posting lil’ money, that’s just not enough
hit his ass with a fifty, he can’t get back up
if i ever fall off, i’ma get back up
i don’t give a f_ck what gun it is long as that b_tch bust
i don’t like to hang with n_ggas that be actin’ tough
i had to give my son a whoopin’, he was actin’ up
we them n_ggas that started everything, these n_ggas act like us
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