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letra de poking out - blac youngsta

[intro]
yeah
woo
woah, woah
uh, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
woah, woah, woah

[verse]
gimme what you got on this app (uh, uh), make that p-ssy bounce (uh)
what that p-ssy ’bout? make it clap (uh, uh), put that p-ssy en route(uh)
she told me to come, i said, “over?” she said in her mouth
all of these hoes fake and i stamp it, it’s a f-ckin’ drought (uh)
all of these hoes f-ck in the car, they f-ck on the couch (uh)
i told her, “put that ass in the air,” p-ssy pokin’ out (woah)
p-ssy pokin’ out, pokin’ out, p-ssy pokin’ out (p-ssy pokin’ out)
they p-ssy, on 5, fire department, put that p-ssy out (yeah)
ooh, i got the juice, you know i got the f-ckin’ juice (know i got that juice)
i got so much juice, i can spill some juice on you (spill that juice on you)
i’m fed up in this b-tch with one b-tch, but i might leave with two
i’m the type to f-ck my lil’ b-tch whole crew (crew, crew, crew)
“one day i’ll grow up and i will sit courtside like you” (you, you, you)
ain’t no need for hatin’ on no n-gga, you can run your money up too (too, too, too)
ain’t no need for waitin’ on no n-gga when the family dependin’ on you (you, you)
if you go out bad then they gon’ fall on you (gang, gang)
i come from the trenches where them young n-ggas pull down, blow you out yo’ shoes (bah, bah, bah)
young n-gga pull down, ho you out yo’ sh-t and take you out yo’ coupe (gimme that)
901, i’m talkin’ memphis sh-t, they give your ass the blues
why you cuffin’ that lil’ ho? she ran through
freaky b-tch (go), lil’ nasty b-tch (go), man, my b-tch be on nasty sh-t (go)
i’m the type, don’t wanna save the b-tch, i’m tryna pass the b-tch (gang, gang)
i might buy that ho somethin’ if she don’t try come and ask me sh-t (go)
get whatever you want (go), she get what she want, she don’t ask for sh-t (go)
she boss as sh-t but she pop her sh-t ’cause she work for it (okay, okay)
she want some d-ck, if i don’t give it to her, she gon’ have a fit (okay, okay)
i dropped a b-tch, told her, “find another n-gga to argue with”
i’m the type of n-gga, can’t stand no lazy b-tch, they’ll lie for sh-t
ain’t got sh-t for no lazy b-tch, they might try to f-ck me out my cash (woah, woah)
i’m rich as f-ck, i’m up for grabs, i’m fresh as f-ck like fab’ (woah, woah, woah)
i keep somethin’ big on my waist so you know that i can’t sag (blrrt)
‘fore i run out of money, b-tch, you gon’ run out of gas

- blac youngsta

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