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letra de you ain't gang (remix) - lil bibby

[intro: lil bibby]
hey
why they hatin’ on a youngin’?
said why they hatin’ on a youngin’?

[hook: lil bibby]
n-gga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
you can’t hang, n-gga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
n-gga you can’t hang, you can’t hang, hang
you can’t, you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang

[verse 1: lil bibby]
b-tch i’m an og, but i’m quick to pull it like a youngin’
in my pockets, all hundreds, run up on me, b-tch i’m drummin’
i was thuggin’ on the corner with my n-ggas, came from nothin’
f-ck these b-tches, i don’t trust ’em, i’m a dog, f-ck her cousin
they like, “godd-mn bibby why you still on that block sh-t?”
get you shot quick ’round them n-ggas i don’t rock with
i seen n-ggas turned christian when they feel that hot sh-t
thought you was a savage, now you on that lord watch sh-t
give a f-ck if you box well, i got hot sh-lls
drop ls, pull up back to back and give your block h-ll
pistol whip your kids, i’m a demon, i’ma rot in h-ll
do the time, i will not tell like i’m vondell

[verse 2: lil durk]
why you floss, p-ssy you ain’t squad, p-ssy you ain’t hard
catch a charge b-tch i’m like a god, varney pulled his card
crackin’ calls, boy i’d get you robbed, 100 thousand large
think i’m smart get that baby lost, like my lean dark
atl, pull up we in dark heard you was a cop, you a opp
flexin’ boy don’t start dracos in the car
me i’m durk, city hate me worst think they hate me first, it’s a curse
now it’s me and dej, 40 in the purse p-ssy try us
yo’ ig a liar got the streets on light
2 times, say it 2 times b-tch i am a fire
plain jane, f-ckin’ with the town call ’em mary jane
street n-gga yeah we gang gang let the chain hang (gang!)

[verse 3: dej loaf]
who’s cuz came with ’em?
who’s blood came with ’em?
see them n-ggas right there, them thugs right there
go ‘head i’d dare ya
all that talkin’ don’t scare me
we ain’t ask you no questions
we don’t need no answers
them n-ggas hoes for real
i’m gettin’ dough for real
b-tch think she bad
this boss for real
we know you talk for real can’t hang with me and my dobermans
what they gon’ do with us
n-ggas ain’t foolin’ us
choppa with the d-ck tell me who to bust
close the door, pull up and ring the doorbell
it’s a full mink, not a montclair
you a f-ckin’ worker and i’m a boss player

[verse 4: kevin gates]
we don’t run, i’m in charge
cookin’ soft, sellin’ hard
went to jail i got off
you was scared to walk the yard
on a big stand on all tens
caught me drinkin’ lord
iron power push a lot of weight
naw hah you had thought
breakin’ down a whole thang ain’t got to stretch it any questions
ball faze bought for all the js and i’m ’bout to bless ’em
female entertainers wanna f-ck with gangsta, you ain’t special
no karate thord kick spent the tec with the suppressor
breadwinner mafia stiffin’ up all benz
sly polaroid swag i’m makin’ bags with a business
action p-ssing extension and they actin’ as a convinct
john gotti body go in body bag it get zipped
telescope go on top of the rifle they think i’m triflin’
football field cleats go to lockin’ in like arthritis
p-ssy sh-t uninvited how wrong for no invitements
(?) twistin’ (?) on landlords
60 racks slipped, bullsh-t in the backyard

[outro: lil bibby]
you can’t hang, n-gga, n-gga, you ain’t gang
you can’t hang, hang
you already know, man
boss gang sh-t
gang

- lil bibby

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