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letra de strap yo nuts on - ysr gramz

[intro]
(enrgy made this one)

[verse 1: ysr gramz]
i make trapper music
i don’t give a f-ck what these rappers doin’
we could’ve got a bag, but you f-ckin’ blew it
i ain’t gotta let off shots ’cause my n-gga shootin’
get a half p for thirteen like i hoop for houston
you should pay attention, take notes like a f-ckin’ student
he should’ve sold dope, but he didn’t, turned to a user
this glock’ll make your f-ckin’ heart drop like a state trooper
[verse 2: six ward von]
drink a four straight out the bottle, f-ck a two cups
pour some möet on a model, we done moved up
you ain’t even got a dollar and you boo’d up
still in the hood shootin’ dice, fiends shootin’ up
i got n-ggas doin’ life, and you shootin’—
i got n-ggas doin’ life, and you shootin’ in the motherf-ckin’ air, tryna scare somebody
only thing you proved, you was tryna spare somebody

[verse 3: ysr gramz]
f-ck a b-tch and leave the b-tch alone, i don’t care about her
one shot from the glock’ll knock the air up out him
you’re tryna flex in front of hoes, you like everybody
we’ll slide down your sh-t like we air hockey
i was tryna get a bag, you was doin’ robberies
the difference between us, you won’t shoot n0body
i won’t do the dishes, fiends do the laundry
you ain’t tryna get no money, get the f-ck from ’round me

[verse 4: six ward von]
kick a b-tch to the curb like i’m jet li
a n-gga ask to hold somethin’, i’m like, “catch these”
my young dog’ll blow somethin’ and he can’t read
’round this b-tch like ray charles, i just can’t see n-ggas
everybody tellin’, i just can’t believe n-ggas
lil’ hoes get sent on, they just can’t be seen with us
i got a third eye, i think i can read n-ggas
the only way is up, n-ggas tryna get a million
[verse 5: ysr gramz]
i’m tryna get a million, give it to aaliyah
i miss my n-gga gabe, why he had to leave us?
she out here havin’ kids, she can’t even keep ’em
n-ggas lyin’ in they raps, i can’t even believe it
mark rollin’ three-fives, askin’ where the weed went
n0body trustworthy, i can’t even f-ckin’ vent
these n-ggas keep a gun, they can’t even keep a cent
my n-gga f-cked up, he ain’t even got no sense

[verse 6: six ward von]
ayy, i got a lot of hoes, b-tches thinkin’ i’m a pimp
i’m walkin’ with the pole, why a n-gga got a limp
you tryna hit the road, still can’t even pay the rent
man, k!ll the p-ssy first time, hit it with attempt
say he in a bind, i can’t lend a n-gga sh-t
don’t ‘posed to be out of town, really outside of michigan
shh, don’t make a sound, finna put it to your man
some shootin’ in the crowd, you ain’t lookin’ like a fan

[verse 7: ysr gramz]
can’t rap on everybody, for a verse, i need a band
she switched up on me, i ain’t see it in her plans
if i ain’t got my glock, f-ckboy, you gettin’ slammed
all i do is sell weed, but it’s lookin’ like i scam
you out here f-cked up, a year ago, you was the man
my shoes off-white, but my shirt is from j-pan
you ain’t get it out the mud, b-tch, you got it out the sand
better strap your nuts on, get some money, quit playin’

- ysr gramz

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