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letra de jet lee - big yavo

[intro]
ayy, man, that choppa having acne, a bump on my stock (ayy, let that sh-t ride, tav)
and that glock, that ho bipolar, a switch on my—
uh, mm, mm, mm, a switch on my—
i just be on that

[verse]
ayy, say, that chop’, that ho got acne, a bump on my stock
and that glizzy thing bipolar, a switch on my glock
ayy, .40 walking with it stuffed, can’t pull out my knot
time and money, you don’t know it, all of my watch
ayy, all up that wrist, i got dog sh-t
i know n-ggas hatin’, i’m in the mall with it
please reach for my chain, i’ma get self defense
in n.y. four, five days, posted up selling nicks
ayy, posted up selling sh-t, n-gga, i’ll sell a fit
she got a onlyfans, bet, come here, i’ll sell a b-tch
and if you want you somethin’, don’t come ’round talkin’ ’bout celibate
and lil’ bruh trap be doing good, throw him some extra sh-t
send me some money and a addy, i’ll mail you this
my big brother, he be cooking, you might smell some sh-t
can you smell the rock? it cooking
this a dior jacket, normally aeropostale hoodies
my last pay look like ashton kutcher
i’m having dog sh-t, sell you a master bully
so much motion, save yo’ frenchie’s
want you a twenty? n-gga, stop spending
wanna learn how to cook? i know a chemist
n-gga, my dad and ‘nem been with me, no, yap
scr-pe gang, scr-pe the pot
go make a stop, then hit up the block
or grab some work and set up shop
these n-ggas bankroll going down like jock
you can tell when a n-gga lost, he start buying jay
the n-gga just was pouring wock’, but now he sippin’ quagen
n0body told you about all them designer shoes anyway
can’t buy designer drugs if you ain’t out here getting paid
now you broke as f-ck, tryna keep up with the f-cking wave
n-gga, i can go designer or go d-boy, pop out hood baby
d-ckie suit with the nikes on, two fifty in the styrofoam
pull some sh-t out a shoebox, so grown, have a whole mind gone
plain rollie another time zone, this that, “sir, yes, sir”
when you sippin’ real drank, sometimes your words get slurred
carti’ got my vision blurred
ballin’, step back shoot like curry
like that, b-tch, hang up my jersey
icy, b-tch, my wrist mcflurry
[chorus]
don’t ask me where i’m at and don’t text back, gon’ have me worried
n-gga pulled up and slowed down and i upped my .30
i ain’t see 12, they told me drop my gun and i jumped the curb
i ran they ass all way to whalen, all right by 3rd
and on my kids, all this sh-t facts, i ain’t making no words
you seen yay come through in that ‘cat, all making a serve
probably on the next street, yo’ b-tch wanna neck me
high top ricks cost seventeen, these kicks high like jet lee

- big yavo

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