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letra de sickest - yung bush

[hook: yung bush]

if it ain’t for my bros then i don’t pick sides
i ain’t even gotta know, i jump in the ride
really the sickest of guys, really the sickest of guys
really the sickest of guy,s really the sickest of guys
if it ain’t for my bros then i don’t pick sides
i ain’t even gotta know, i jump in the ride
really the sickest of guys, really the sickest of guys
really the sickest of guys, really the sickest of guys

[verse 1: yung bush]

sickest of guys
i remember when we never had a z and now look, we bringing the packs
i remember when they said it was dead, i swear forever i tried
and now they’re telling me they’re loving the quality plus they’re all loving the size
my paranoia got me thinking they’re feds, but acting like fiends in disguise
so anytime they ask questions i just sit back and feed them all lies
you know i feed them all lies
i hear them talking in the streets i ain’t even really beefing with these guys
they say they on me that’s g-y, couldn’t be on me even if they tried
cause i just pull up on the side, and hit him in his chest, not up in his thighs
i ain’t even gotta ride but it’s a man down if i’ma let it rise
they talk the talk like they’re the guys when i come around then everybody hides
f-cking with us isn’t wise when it comes to family everybody dies
we ain’t hearing any sorry
so we just let them hear the shotty
hitting body after body
we do the job and do it properly
if it hits you then it’s guaranteed to turn a boy slim even if he’s stocky
we do the job and do it properly clear up all the tracks, we ain’t moving sloppy

[hook: yung bush]

[verse 2: k-trap]

really the sickest of men
they give it the big but we know what’s myths so we never listen to them
they talk like they trap but never show cats i swear all these niggas pretend
in the booth for now but if my phone rings i’m back in the kitchen again
back to the whipping again
back to the dinners and breaking it down and feeding my kittens again
back to the packs that only come sealed and i gotta rip ’em again
come round with the mak it’s loud when it slaps i threw on a whistle for them
i’m on if it’s war, i pick up the 4s it’s back to the cooking again
realest of rap, chewed off a spinners or laps
my niggas in jail for food on them scales or getting some idiots whacked
i whip in this bowl, i give it a swirl, i bet you i’m bringing that back
i’m watching my step don’t slip with the feds, no doubt they’ll be bringing me back
bringing me back to hell
got waps and bags of shells
in the hood get bagged it’s jail
so you gotta keep bags for bail
so you gotta keep family close and friends at arms, cah i can’t put trust in a friend
i hardly put trust in myself, just about put trust on my skeng

[hook: yung bush]

- yung bush

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