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letra de diet - yung zee

[verse 1]

wake up every day, boy, i’m swagging to the core
i’mma pull up in a whip you never seen before
pack a few dubs when i’m out riding around
your b-tch probably with me if she nowhere to be found
getting paid, getting laid, getting faded away
bad b-tch walking by, you know i’mma say “aye”
take her back to the crib, pop a bunch of rose
about 2 mollies later, and it’s time to play
next day when i drop her off at her paddy
she say “you look a little like my little girl maddy”
i threw that hoe right out of my caddy
’cause on god, i ain’t going to be no motherf-cking daddy
i got more money than you’ll ever get
broke n-gga trying to steal some, we finna hit
man, all of this money be flowing to me
ain’t n0body here matching the swag of the z
money on the mind, money in the hand
when i go out, carry ’round a band
loud on deck, be smoking it up
pouring way too much codeine in my cup
foreign cars, foreign hoes
#redbone, you already know
all these haters trying to say i can’t rap
n-gga, i’mma pop one in yo’ -ss
keep talking, and i’mma pop one in your head
i got swag, enough said
i hustle to keep my n-ggas high
you got drugs, i’m gon’ buy
i trap mo’ than gucci
i swag mo’ than tunechi
i wear so much louis
broke n-gga looking sad, ain’t that funny?

[hook]

girl, you get with me, i pay yo’ bills
you could call my house a motherf-cking paper mill
yung zee swagged out, man, i’m h-lla trill
packing loud, drank, and every kind of f-cking pill
my pockets need a diet, diet, diet (x3)
me and all my n-ggas, man, we finna start a riot

[verse 2]

so iced out, looking like the north pole
going to the club, b-tches be on the pole
to hit 4 commas is my goal
i’m a hot n-gga, f-ck you, you cold
life be different out there on the streets
never f-cking know who the h-ll you gon’ meet
might see yo girl, now ain’t that sweet?
i see yo -ss, man, you finna get beat
if i catch a n-gga talk sh-t on the telephone
send a n-gga out, tell him, “put one in his dome.”
all my n-ggas know how i like my girl, redbone
pull up to the mansion, boy, now i’m home
no sympathy for dead fake n-ggas
h-ll, i might have been the one who pulled that trigga
white -ss crackers, man, f-ck them wiggas
i make them p-ssies hop like tigga
some of these n-ggas trying to hate on me
i don’t give a f-ck, man, can’t you see?
while they be janking, in a mansion i be
when they cl!ck play, i get mo’ money
riding ’round ‘lanta with me and my boys
rolling with the techs, man, ain’t no toys
hoes everywhere, that’s what i enjoy
wack rappers make me annoyed
my sprite dirty, man, that sh-t need a bath
got a n-gga count my money, i can’t do math
all white rappers be fake -ss white trash
pull up on them, drive by, back out in a flash
all this money and fame make life fun
shouts out to all the real n-ggas ain’t got none
man, i’m 2 fye, hotter then the d-mn sun
hoes be clapping for me, ain’t no pun

[hook]

- yung zee

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