letra de you not ebk - ysr big dev
[intro]
(so much energy)
[verse]
b-tch, i’m ridin’ ’round with smackers in the whip
n-gga tried to run from that mm-mm and got hit
we done put his dog down in the pound, i know he sick
you hit that side, i hit that side, we gon’ show ’em how to blitz
n-gga, how the f-ck you beecher k, you never k!lled sh-t?
get to talkin’ to my guy, when i’m lonely, i just vent
all american with the glock, b-tch, i’m ridin’ ’round with spins
i put a b-tton on the back ’cause i ain’t tryna be a vit
i got a micro on my lap when i’m ridin’ through the trench
we bounced out with fast, do it go blrrt? that’s the glitch
n-gga, how the f-ck you want my b-tch and she ate my d-ck?
i don’t want the slim mag in my glizzy, i want a chris
you get locked, you better close your mouth like you ain’t got no lips
i pour up deuces when i’m mad, i don’t wanna hit your fifth
n-ggas said f-ck my mans, and next day, sh-t got spint
i’m through the city every day, i don’t even live in flint
we turnt up when he died, they just sat and reminisce
i get to trippin’ when i’m mad, i crash out, i’m a pit
i got a hundred on this b-tch, it’s like lightning when it hit
this n-gga scared of this sh-t, he ridin’ ’round with five percent
threw in the towel like godd-mn, what the f-ck was got drissed?
that n-gga said ah-ah, that’s how i know he got hit
always started when i played, you lil’ n-ggas rode the bench
speakin’ down on the gang gon’ get a n-gga sh-t swished
boy, who you think you foolin’ with that fake-ass trish?
i got to bustin’ what the h-lly, them n-ggas ran like michael vick
you need some sh-t to make you turn up, search your mike defense
they said big dev in the party, all the hoes hit a split
don’t let this fat sh-t fool you, you run you down in a spliff
blew my candle out, i want a hundred k, that’s my wish
how the f-ck you rappin’ and you rat like how that make sense?you’s a lil’ freaky, diddy-ass n-gga mixed up with prince
i seen a n-gga get face left up on detroit hits
i got white hoes too, somethin’ like taylor swift
that pfi on my name, i ain’t worried ’bout that sh-t
i came home and got fat, then ate rotel and chips
i got a play on clio, so you know i gotta think
they said, “f-ck ysr, so you know i gotta trick”
in the bullpen walkin’ ’round, i’m just makin’ n-ggas flinch
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