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letra de you kant - jelly & pi'erre bourne

[intro: jelly]
yo, pi’erre
ayy
(yo, pi’erre)
ayy, ayy
ayy, ayy, ayy
ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
jelly
jelly
ayy
ayy, ayy

[chorus: jelly]
they can’t f-ck with me, i’ll put ’em on they -sses (huh?)
i need a couple gs, i need a couple bags (where the bags?)
you can’t f-ck with jelly if you got no cash (uh-uh)
they can’t f-ck with me, i’ll put ’em on they -sses (huh?)
they can’t f-ck with me, i’ll put ’em on they -sses (huh?)
i need a couple gs, i need a couple bags (where the bags?)
you can’t f-ck with jelly if you got no cash (where the cash?)
they can’t f-ck with me, i’ll put ’em on they -sses (uh-uh)

[verse 1: jelly]
i can’t f-ck with him, he tellin’ on his mans, bruh (i know you tellin’)
i’m the n-gga with the cash and i back it up (i’m the man)
got a 40 and an ar in the mattress (under here)
he an actor and a liar, he a capper (bet he cappin’)
it ain’t nothin’ to get you touched, i got the cash, bruh (got the bag)
i got a n-gga with the pistols all up on him (he a shooter)
man, my n-ggas, they the army, f-ck some handguns (we got soldiers)
we ain’t playin’, we just trappin’ and we shoot for fun (we just trappin’)

[verse 2: pi’erre bourne]
i just showed these n-ggas how to get a bag (get a bag)
wait, uh, n-ggas two-faced, always wear a mask (wear a mask)
huh, wait, i’m gettin’ into shape, flexin’ on they -sses (i’m flexin’ on they -sses)
hey, wait, boy, i been great, you can ask my dad, wait (ask my dad, n-gga)
remember i had no money, always been good in math (good in math, n-gga)
yeah, my cousin in the cutl-ss, he just want a jag’ (want a jag’)
wait, we don’t got no smoke, we just smoke the gas (got no smoke)
hey, that n-gga smokin’ ports, n-gga stressin’ bad (stressin’ bad, n-gga)
i don’t see these n-ggas, i don’t need no gl-sses (need no gl-sses)
huh, i could teach these n-ggas, i could teach the cl-ss (teach the cl-ss)
hey, n-gga copyin’ me, yeah, you tryna p-ss (tryna p-ss, n-gga)
hey, i’m from jamaica in queens, they might shoot your -ss (shoot your -ss)
huh, wait, i want all the sales, rest in peace, that’s facts ([?])
wait, diamonds [?], stones [?] (uh-uh)
hey, i go nfl runnin’ up a bag (nah, for real)
hey, do it for my hood like trayvon martin, so sad (no funny sh-t)

[outro: shadoe haze]
ah, sh-t
d-mn, pi’erre, where’d you find this?

- jelly pierre bourne

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