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ysr gramz - quarantine كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1: baglife tee]
aye, i’m just talkin’ rude
i went and got me a bag before i finished school
i call my n_gga mad max the way he keep the tool
he just bought a brand new glock, that b_tch hold 52

[verse 2: ysr pitt]
n_ggas trippin’ in the club, we finna shoot up rube’s
we had to shut that b_tch down, you must ain’t see the news
you see the fake in the n_ggas that wanna see you lose
a n_gga said he robbed me, that sh_t april fools
a b_tch said she loved me, i said “i hate you too”
f_ckin’ this b_tch from the back, i made her coochie poot
we rollin’ up top chef, you smokin’ rudy poo
we been f_ckin’ n_ggas hoes, but that ain’t nothin’ new
your n_gga in the county gettin’ bullied, heard he shined his shoes
told the police we mechanic workers, ’cause we ride with tools
heard he tryna hide from us, but we findin’ you
see it in your eyes, you a b_tch, who you lyin’ to?

[verse 3: ysr gramz]
i feel like pac, middle finger, n_gga, f_ck y’all
got your ass beat in front of your family, should’ve jumped dawg
i’m sick n_ggas really gettin’ fake runtz off
i’ma drop 100_somethin’ tapes, then take a month off
f_cked the b_tch one time, like her light bills, cut her off
put a scope on my ar for n_ggas runnin’ off
100 bowls before the rap deal, i think i’m young dolph
so many poles in this whip, like we gon’ golf
[verse 4: baglife tee]
i’m finna trip around this b_tch, grab the automatic
set their ass up, use their ass for target practice
my hitman throwin’ bullets, he quarterbackin’
paid 1,000 for big b’s, got them out of saks fifth
paid 1,000 for some d_mn weed, now i’m just relaxin’
poured a 8 of the green lean, got me walkin’ backwards
i’m the face of my d_mn team, you can call me captain

[verse 5: ysr pitt]
church man owed me for some weed, had to beat the pastor
b_tch called me broke, i can’t see, i bought your mink lashes
pink triple s’s, these b_tches look like pink panther
b_tch said she got a boyfriend, and we still ran her
i be lil brotherin’ y’all n_ggas, boy, you eli manning
put a 30 clip in the glock, because i hate the standard
you ain’t gettin’ no pt boy, you tyson chandler
sick you thought your main b_tch was loyal, my n_gga still rammed her

[verse 6: ysr gramz]
i’m sick he snitchin’, thought he was gettin’ out, them n_ggas still jammed him
he said “all hands, no grabbin'”, but i still slammed him
pop a n_gga, then throw in the hood [?]
before this rap sh_t, i was sellin’ the whole hood candy
told the b_tch “eat this d_ck, stop tryna do it fancy”
so many tools in this b_tch, n_gga, handy mandy
this b_tch gettin’ on my nerves, bro, pass a xanny
put these phones in your name, we gon’ take ’em to ramsey
go go wireless
[verse 7: ysr pitt, ysr gramz & baglife tee]
shoot that n_gga whip up, leave it tireless
he said he wanna drive to kansas, we done hired him
he f_cked around and got us pulled over, we done fired him

[outro: ysr pitt]
ha! get your dumbass on

- ysr gramz

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