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letra de nyia's song - yung trae

[intro]
it’s like four a.m., we out here you heard me
shout out all my old hoes you heard me, yeah

[verse: yung trae]
double tapping her latest post, pour a cup of that combination
my lawyer jewish for your information, ironic how my camp concentrate’in
on another money mission, wanna battle i’mma beat ya
new snakes don’t rattle they just ask you for a feature
new slaves don’t judge, ’cause we already know that we ain’t sh-t either
mama on the move, got raised by my teacher
n-gga was my daddy from the 1st to the 5th
i was in the trap boy the 1st and the 5th-tenth
used to hide drugs underneath the kitchen sink
when i pull a gun boy you better not blink
your days are numbered like calendars, your b-tch love my honesty
my big bro still my hero, my sis still my savior
still spending money on white owls, no gl-ss bowls or no papers
my b-tch buy me condoms, the kind that come in flavors
he work in mysterious ways, but be work’in in my favor
can’t fade me b-tch i’m tapered
leave your avenue taped off, and you st-tched up like baseb-lls
my shades dark, my n-gga ray charles
her hand all in my free forms, i eat her out while i’m home alone
i’d unlock my free forms before i let her unlock my phone
dirty shoes but she love that sh-t, i love you too and your dancer body
i just rented a maserati, got it smelling like diesel
these peoples, and they evils
rather spark up with reyna, and play some beanie sigel
smoke an eighth all to myself, so my lungs are very much blackened
piru so i pop ya if you ever ask me what’s crack’in
we make a p.o.v., the camera roll’in and she act’in
my skinny b-tch self conscious, i caught her on a scale
she said: “nino, why you trappin’?”, guess she found my other scale
tell me focus on my rap sh-t, especially ’cause the city back me
i’ll get rid of my trap sh-t when you get rid of your acne
n-gga that’s some proactiv sh-t
i’m an active suwooper, i’m a pro at gettin’ active, sh-t
pills in the pocket of my cargos, more cargos than john cena
i died more than the undertaker, that xanax brought me back b-tch
i’m too broke to act rich, but paid enough to make her wanna f-ck
i’m mr.right and she lady luck
i’m in the cut, i’m in the cut
smoke’in doobies, bump’in boosie
play’in sensitive, talk’in poets out their g-strings
up top two bee stings, she asked can i show her that [?]
shorty’s wonder woman to her d-mn teamn
saved my number as hal jordan, ’cause she know i’m gettin’ green, ’cause she know i’m gettin’ green
don’t be goose’in ‘less it’s grey, don’t you facetime me with clothes on
don’t sip from out my cup, ‘less you think you ’bout that life
i be on my chris rock, boy i think i love my wife
then nyia replied to my text message and now i’m reconsidering

[outro: four letterz]
you a b-tch -ss n-gga, n-gga you a b-tch
you a b-tch -ss n-gga, you a b-tch -ss n-gga
oh sh-t i forgot to star 67
h-llo? aye, what’s up trae, my n-gga
what’s up, son?
aye, what’s p number? hit me back

- yung trae

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