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letra de freestyle - yfn lucci

[intro: bandhunta izzy]
(jessie p on the track)
look, uh

[verse 1: bandhunta izzy & yfn lucci]
these n-ggas be cotton soft, knock it off
i got your down b-tch tryna top me off
i hit a b-tton to pull out your residence
six nines, i hit him, i heard he was tellin’ sh-t
ooh, playin’ with the keys like ray charles
step in that spot only usin’ my facecard
brrt, callin’ my ‘migos on takeoff
i got that drop on that boy, he gon’ take off (ooh)
tell the b-tch, “shake that” (shake that)
feelin’ like diddy, i take that, take that

[verse 2: yfn lucci]
like you in the wrong, ho, you know we gon’ take that, huh
you look like a snack, so we ate that, huh
you shot up my block, i want payback, huh
you know i’m protected like latex, huh
uh, these n-ggas be cap like an a’s hat
i’m in baltimore like that’s where i stay at
hit up izzy, man, you know he don’t play that, huh
i need like two of ’em asap, yeah
i need ’em gone like asap

[verse 3: bandhunta izzy]
f-ck that, we get ’em gone fast like a racetrack
lyin’ in bushes right where he stay at
want a closed casket, then why you ain’t say that?
i rep that c, third letter the alphabet
he got them p’s, why he ain’t tell me that?
he want some smoke? hope he inhalin’ that
sinkin’ his boat, where was he sailin’ at?

[verse 4: yfn lucci]
look, i got that scope, i’m peelin’ that melon back
in the back with the ceiling cracked
i got that ak-40 and the mac
lettin’ it clap, playin’ pitty-pat
one in the back, where is ricky at?

[verse 5: bandhunta izzy & yfn lucci]
i’m a real dope boy, ain’t with that chitter-chat
n-gga, you trade, tell him to let ’em out
i feel like pootie tang pullin’ leather out
i feel like goldmouf, diamonds in my mouth
louis v leather all on my couch
i might just pick up some beef that lu had
i just might hit up a n-gga ’cause izzy mad
n-ggas just hit up my mans, i’ma get ’em back
treat ’em like wayne, where was the ceiling at?
we run the streets, they run the internet
i’m t.i., where your cookie at?
pull up, we shootin’ your residence
we shootin’ schools, we shootin’ like, “where was the bully at?”
fully strapped, we got the hoodie, yeah
we pull up, leave ’em slumped
he reppin’ blood, left him bleedin’, huh
i’m reppin’ c, i’ma see him, huh
yeah, i’ma see him out, see what that blood ’bout to be about

[verse 6: yfn lucci]
i said brody ain’t my blood, but i left him bleedin’
caught in my car, but i left him crumpled, yeah
when i’m in the club, got my pistol, yeah
if i ever mug, i’ma get you
sat in my two-seater, my b-tch, she a diva, yeah
on my hip, i got my nina, yeah
right on the curb, he’ll leave ya, huh
now he got a stripe like adidas, uh

- yfn lucci

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