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andy the chef – yoyo lyrics

produced and written by
(the chef)
engineered by
(the chef)

[hook]
call that b-tch a yo-yo
i throw her, she come back
call that b-tch a no no
she don’t know how to act
and if you got that sh-t on lock
then why she sitting on my lap
cuz my sh-t slap, and i’m sitting on a stack

call that b-tch a yo-yo
i throw her she come back to me
and all these b-tches fake, could be made in a factory
and all these n-gg-s snakes, while they wait
i just laugh see
cuz while they get no money, i’m just getting to my bag

[verse 1]
now i’m sh-tting on my ex, f-cking on the next
f-cking with these, yo my liver is a mess
thank god i’m blessed, thank god he’s real
thank god i’m here, and thank god i feel
cuz these n-gg-s is so heartless
these n-gg-s is so clueless
lookin at my past thinking
why the f-ck i do this
my new b-tch a nudist, yeah she getting naked
that chick is a trophy, you want it imma take it
i can hoop for the lakers, cuz i got the sk!ll
yall think i’m worth a rack, but i’m sitting on a mil
she throw it on a n-gg-, she hoe-in for a n-gg-
i ain’t f-ck with her at first, now she growing on a n-gg-

[hook]
so i call that b-tch a yo-yo
i throw her, she come back
call that b-tch a no no
she don’t know how to act
and if you got that sh-t on lock
then why she sitting on my lap
cuz my sh-t slap, and i’m sitting on a stack

call that b-tch a yo-yo
i throw her she come back to me
and all these b-tches fake, could be made in a factory
and all these n-gg-s snakes, while they wait
i just laugh see cuz
while they get no money, i’m just getting to my bag

[bridge]
(my bag, my bag, my bag)

wasn’t worth a grip, now i’m gettin to them commas
them n-gg-s talking sh-t, lowkey all up in they mamas
she wanna twerk it for a n-gg-, like some maracas
said go ahead
bust down thotiana

[verse 2]
like a b-tch
the money running back to me
andy cooking up, that’s a fact to me
rhyme after rhyme, that’s a bag to me
she like papi can you spend another stack on me

like step, b-tch don’t step to a n-gg-, gah d-mn
she always tryna flex with a n-gg-, i am
the realest and the flyest, no fake to my game
i can’t work witcha, too much weight on my name
they watch a n-gg- pockets like a race to the chain
so when i throw em out, they come runnin back again
yall slippin up, like you need a pick-me-up
all yall n-gg-s baby soft, lemme get the sippy cup

i spend it then get back to the bread like i’m frodo
i aim then it’s shots to your head like a photo
them white girls love a n-gg- ice, call me froyo
so when i throw her out, she come back like a yo-yo
like a yo-yo

- andy the chef lyrics

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