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letra de y&t 2 - 42 dugg

[intro]
i got that white sh-t on too, b-tch (y’all know what the f-ck that is)
by now y’all know what the f-ck i’m talkin’ ’bout (ya dig)
yeah, young turnt n-gga, b-tch, the movement

[verse 1]
all these b-tches do is gossip (that’s all)
f-ck findin’ love where them blocks at
ho tellin me i’m toxic, she done f-cked a ho, what projects?
see a buss down by a n-gga on my way to avianne
took a ho to tiffany’s, she ain’t ever been off connors
i got n-ggas locked in adrian, still talk sh-t like browner
i see a bad b-tch and i want her, either i’m prolly f-ckin’ or i’m gone
yeah, this coat by saint laurent, can’t say i ain’t the one
make my b-tch suck d-ck for hours and she swear i hate to cum
might call my bro, like, “make your jump”
b-tch had my paper, i hate to front
got places for dinner, got places for lunch
she love a n-gga but hate to stunt
i’m young and turnt, can’t make this up
my b-tches all bad, talkin’ eights and up
tell ’em, “knock her off,” won’t say for what
two hunnid, the jury, no safe for us
i’m safe enough, put me in the game, i’m lacin’ up
no, i lace enough, dawg, i’m raisin’ mutts, paws
my n-ggas all hatin’, sh-t, it’s not the same, it’s different
cost forty-five plane, not to mention
‘nother twenty-five bucks on the right wrist
told a ho, i wanna f-ck, i don’t like kissin’
big face, presidents, i don’t like n-ggas (ayy)

[chorus]
said a b-tch freaky and i know it
look at my wrist, i’m glowin’
big face go as i point
don’t even gotta tell me, i’m knowin’
she goin’, she goin’, she goin’, she gone
i’m young and turnt on my own
can’t wait ’til my brother get home
i’m young and turnt in this b-tch
all my n-ggas lit

[verse 2]
ayy, what you would do for a tip?
ho, it don’t even matter, i’m rich
prolly f-ck my brother, my cousin
got n-ggas still textin’ they love you
for the night, baby, f-ck your n-gga
porsche white, blue, f-ck it, n-gga, i’m sippin’
for the atl, i’m crippin’
for the nineteen it don’t really make a difference
and keep it real, i don’t really like mentions
most n-ggas snitchin’, tip ’em (rats)
f-ck n-gga, just keep your distance
lamb’ truck, h-ll nah, i don’t eat out
double cs on my b-tch when her feet out
big bs all over the treehouse

- 42 dugg

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