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letra de start it off - yn records & yn jay

[intro: yn jay]
(d-mn, jakesand)
ah (make believe)
somebody better
yeah, ah, d-mn
somebody start this b-tch off before i start it off
someb— ahh (ah, sh-t)
alright

[verse 1: yn jay]
somebody start this b-tch off before i start it off
a n-gga with a hundred thousand dollars, that’s what you call a boss?
n-gga set a play, but it ain’t work, he had to call it off
i hit him, pop-pop while he was runnin’, he started joggin’ off

[verse 2: grindhard e]
how the f-ck you— alright, yeah
how the f-ck you makin’ plays every day, but still fallin’ off?
pills, weed, lean, hard, and soft, we got dog and all
fiend thought the dope was raw, but i hit it with inositol
cut into this b-tch disrespectful, i wasn’t nice at all

[verse 3: ysr gramz]
my n-gga caught a body for me, he from saginaw
glock send so many shots like basketball
i cannot do business with you, it’s a rat involved
this drac’ll knock a whole bridge down like mackinac
i sold everything for the low, i ain’t tax at all
[verse 4: ftos twan]
i’m the type to pull up unannounced, i don’t never call
i done chased sh-t down in slides, i ain’t never fall
but how the f-ck you had it all, then dropped the ball?
he rode through with all his windows up, so i dropped ’em all

[verse 5]
so many horses in the hood, i’m yellin’, “giddy up”
every glock we got got a box, we put them semis up
i was on that road with no l’s ridin’ with fifty-plus
sixty-four quarters in a ‘bow that go for fifty-plus

[verse 6]
four-forty-eight in a bag, i’ll pack it all
this a deuce of trish in this cup, not no alcohol
if ain’t no money in the crib, we gon’ whack the dog
they put my n-gga in the crazy home, he ain’t have it all

[verse 7]
scammed a b-tch out her whole check, she ain’t have it all
n-gga thought he drinkin’ green lean, it was alcohol
b-tch, what’s your first and last name? i’m puttin’ it on the card
pull up to this burger king, i gotta charge my msr

[verse 8]
drop a hundred shots on a n-gga, we ain’t at the bar
n-gga tried to run in front of gang, he ain’t get far
my young bull be trippin’, he be spinnin’ in stolen cars
my fiend’ll come set the play on you for a [?] (ah)
[verse 9: yn jay]
hit the top of the car with a switch, now it’s a droptop
this b-tch rolled the windows down, i’m tryna hotbox (ah)
i’m gettin’ head from two different hoes, i’m gettin’ top, top (ah)
i should’ve knew, i should’ve knew she was a thot, thot

[verse 10: grindhard e]
three seconds all i had to shoot, i beat the shot clock
i can smell what’s between her legs, she got a hot box
he ain’t got a rollie, he be checkin’ time on a stopwatch
got her ass beat, all you heard was sound effects like mah-mah

[verse 11]
see an opp, let the switch off and make his ass hopscotch
everybody caught action with the drac’, that’s the block chop
i’m a young boy to my cougar b-tch, she give top, top
you got a pop and a rocket, then meet me up at poprox

[verse 12: ftos twan]
they tryna get me out the field, but i cannot stop
fully ap, i’ma blow this b-tch ’til the clip stop
i’m on the northside, i’m finna take a pitstop
i think i gotta bury the k again, ’cause this b-tch hot

[verse 13]
we’ll drop a brick in your hood, make your block hot
two-for-thirty-five for the fiends, make ’em shop, shop
n-gga swung on you in the club, you cannot box
you don’t get no hoes when you out, you just c-ckblock
[verse 14]
n-gga signed for a fake rollie, his sh-t tick-tock
n-ggas dead broke, he on his floor watchin’ tiktok
n-gga baby mama breath stink, she need a tic tac
all that tryna hug me in the club, b-tch, you need to get back

[verse 15]
i knew it wasn’t no bullet in the head, i heard a cl!ck-clack
this ten-milli’ hit him in his head, pushed his sh-t back
louis vs off a gucci belt, i just mismatched
you the type to lie up in your music, i state big facts (ah)

[verse 16: yn jay]
beat a n-gga ass while he cookin’ dope, he got his sh-t cracked
i smoked a n-gga the day before christmas, he got giftwrapped
i know dog was stressed out, he pulled up with six blacks
we just pulled up to taco bell tryna buy a big mac

[verse 17: ysr gramz]
drop thirty shots on them n-ggas, heard cl!ck-clack
so much sauce in the room, i’m a big mac
my white boy got a lot of ‘bows, i call him riff raff
if manman take your sh-t, can’t get your sh-t back

[verse 18]
rolled up a three-point-five, i need big wax
four after four after four, that’s a big nap
f-ck a n-gga ho, yeah, he can’t get his b-tch back
pull up on the l, we got it all, all we do is trap

- yn records yn jay

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