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letra de back 2 back - yn jay & rmc mike

[intro: yn jay]
(fingerz, you a fool for this one)
i mean like
fingers, why you do that man
you always doing something, man
why— ah

[verse: yn jay & rmc mike]
got fingerz on the beat, i’m finna go crazy
i just hit a b-tch like fifty-six, that’s my old lady
she tryna suck my d-ck from the back, i’m like, “no, baby”
man, this b-tch just squirted everywhere, i’m like, “woah, baby”
i’m lookin’ for a bad freaky b-tch with the toe painting
bad b-tch walkin’ in some heels, ain’t got no laces
i just beat this lil’ b-tch down, she had gold braces
p-ssy so good, i couldn’t stop, i’m a whole date
i just met a b-tch that’s twenty-one, she got four babies
stuffed twenty ‘bows in the bas-m-nt, got the whole— d-mn
sh-t, got the ‘bows stankin’
onе thousand old hundreds, bens with the bold facеs
police couldn’t find no evidence, we gon’ cold case it
i just made a hundred racks in blues, not the old faces
i just took some ice out the freezer, it’s a froze bracelet
b-tch sniffin’ coke all day, got her nose stankin’
auntie quit f-ckin’ with the dog, she gon’ cocaine it
finna blow a n-gga house up, i’ma propane it
finna draw a picture like picasso, i’ma pro paint it
drop the vacuum sealer, but the ‘bows stankin’
woah, jaylein
i’m finna cool the summer down like a cold blanket
i just touched a b-tch heart, we gon’ soulmate
b-tch ain’t wash her feet off— ah
got her toes stankin’
sh-t, that’s a d-mn shame
i just threw paint on my old-school, look like champagne
hundred rounds on my ar, ain’t gotta d-mn aim
within the first night, i beat the campaign
n-gga only shoot his— d-mn
n-gga only shoot his gun when he at the d-mn range
i just hit dog from far away, i got d-mn range
not a walker for an old person, but i sell ‘caine
i just popped a n-gga in all white, ain’t got a d-mn stain
i would never stop sh-t talkin’ ’cause the fans change
i just fell in love with mary, don’t tell jane
i just got caught with my side b-tch, don’t tell main
f-ck, that’s a d-mn shame
b-tch, if i don’t speak to you first, don’t say a thing
ayy, mike, hey
who the f-ck gave dog a firearm? he just dropped his flame
hey, jay, f-ck
who the f-ck gave dog a d-mn chain?
you can’t talk around dog, he gon’ tell things
i be f-ckin’ with the edd, we got twelve names
i’m a rapper, but i look like i sell ‘caine
i just dropped thirteen shots, then 12 came
okay the w popped up before the l came
i used the ho to catch somebody, that’s jailbait
how the f-ck you get a manicure, but your nails stank?
ask how much lean i drunk today, about twelve eights
sh-t, okay, the b-tch ass real, but her hair fake
should i break the bag all the way down or sell weight? (we don’t smoke the same)

- yn jay rmc mike

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