letra de where you been - yung weej
[intro: d savage]
ay, ay, ay, gang
smokin’ on uh, blunts
okay
[chorus: d savage]
you n-ggas is goofy not gettin’ no money
i’m countin’ blue hunnids make a n-gga [?]
gucci, chanel she lovin’ the drip
i’m in the trap house gettin’ rich
these n-ggas are like some b-tches
i pull up with sticks and let them b-tches hit
i’m a real n-gga, i hang with them shooters, i swear to god they don’t miss
[verse 1: d savage]
they like savage where you been?
trappin’ tryna get it in
this f-ck n-gga keep on dodgin’ me so i’m gon’ shoot his friend
never fold, never bend (never)
stay 100 hundred till the end
i’ma double-cross the snake, a evil villain don’t pretend
i’m rollin’ up cookies my backwood is stuffed
i’m smokin’ that loud you smokin’ [?]
kick down yo’ door i want all the drugs
[verse 2 : yung weej]
kick down yo’ door we want all the drugs
[?] as a lil kid i looked up to the plug
ever since than i been trappin’ from heart
i live what i rep but [?]
i really been trappin’ i don’t no fraud
[chorus: d savage]
you n-ggas is goofy not gettin’ no money
i’m countin’ blue hunnids make a n-gga [?]
gucci, chanel she lovin’ the drip
i’m in the trap house gettin’ rich
these n-ggas are like some b-tches
i pull up with sticks and let them b-tches hit
i’m a real n-gga, i hang with them shooters, i swear to god they don’t miss
[verse 3: yung weej]
i swear to god they don’t miss
fn and choppa bullets, we don’t miss
smokin’ gelato and sippin this wock
i don’t want none of that trash
b-tch i been doin’ this sh-t (doin’ this sh-t)
b-tch i ain’t new to this sh-t
wake up and flippin’ a brick
i was out bad headed [?] a l!ck
[?] let’s go pour up a pint
[?] i don’t serve [?]
this actavis expired, it’s aging like wine
[?] like a b-tch i stay with this 9
the only way we are goin’ is up
can’t go back down don’t wanna be stuck
see this [?]
you can keep her, i done already f-cked
[chorus: d savage]
you n-ggas is goofy not gettin’ no money
i’m countin’ blue hunnids make a n-gga [?]
gucci, chanel she lovin’ the drip
i’m in the trap house gettin’ rich
these n-ggas are like some b-tches
i pull up with sticks and let them b-tches hit
i’m a real n-gga, i hang with them shooters, i swear to god they don’t miss
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