fbg young - talk yo shit lyrics
[intro: fbg young]
i don’t need you in here
ayy
ayy, ayy, ayy
[chorus: fbg young]
mama say, “don’t go around that way, them n+ggas iffy”
i can get you sitchy with this glizzy if you fishy
told my plug, “ditch it,” like magician, it go missin’
my shooters go rambunctious with them k!llings and get busy, hey
put a f+ckin’ hit on your shoulder, it’s so lowdown
drop some benjis on it, have your homie get up on you, huh
i sold so many ps that the dead opps my aroma
make your daughter trap for me ’cause she want that fendi on her
[verse 1: fbg young]
i’ma bang my side ’til the death of me
’til i rest in peace, foe ‘nem rep the rest of me
watch them n+ggas ’round the corner, down the block, and up the street
better keep a bl!ck or your ass get sent to leak’s
i got gas, but i’m on e, f+ck a fee
turn this b+tch to out west, i got d, what you need? ayy, ayy
bad b+tch, she bougie, brought the ratchet out her
that b+tch sucked me back to sleep, it’s somethin’ nasty ’bout her
i be stylin’, i ain’t got no stylist
twenty pounds, another [?]
hit me on it [?]
[?] anything get behind it
and my b+tch don’t get a bag, she get all mine
told that b+tch i want a bag, but it’s all cash, ayy
[chorus: fbg young & wooski]
mama say, “don’t go around that way, them n+ggas iffy”
i can get you sitchy with this glizzy if you fishy
told my plug, “ditch it,” like magician, it go missin’
my shooters go rambunctious with them k!llings and get busy, hey
put a f+ckin’ hit on your shoulder, it’s so lowdown
drop some benjis on it, have your homie get up on you, huh (wop, wop)
i sold so many ps that the dead opps my aroma (wop)
make your daughter trap for me ’cause she want that fendi on her (wop, wop, wop)
[verse 2: wooski]
i pull up drippin’ on their ass (huh, huh)
pockets crippin’ on their ass (wop, wop)
no, i’m not listenin’ to their ass, wop, wop, wop
wop, wop, wop, wop, wop, wop (gang, gang, gang, b+tch)
i don’t give no f+ck who with his ass (glah, bah)
squeeze that b+tch ’til it start cl!ckin’ on his ass (bah, bah, glah, glah, glah)
guns rippin’, bullets flippin’ on his ass (flippin’ on his ass, wop, wop)
(wop, wop, wop, wop, wop, wop)
yeah, the state wanted me to be a felon (huh)
f+ck the opps ’cause them n+ggas tellin’ (f+ck ’em)
jumpin’ out his body, broski pop his melon
n+gga, that’s that l’a pack what you smellin’
been with the older n+ggas since i was eleven (huh, huh)
twelve, thirteen, dope i was sellin’ (wop, wop)
got bumped for a .357 (wop, wop)
said f+ck school, so i start failin’, gang (wop, wop)
[chorus: fbg young]
mama say, “don’t go around that way, them n+ggas iffy”
i can get you sitchy with this glizzy if you fishy
told my plug, “ditch it,” like magician, it go missin’
my shooters go rambunctious with them k!llings and get busy, hey
put a f+ckin’ hit on your shoulder, it’s so lowdown
drop some benjis on it, have your homie get up on you, huh
i sold so many ps that the dead opps my aroma
make your daughter trap for me ’cause she want that fendi on her
[outro: fbg young]
mama say, “don’t go around that way, them n+ggas iffy”
i+i can get you sitchy with this glizzy if you fishy (get on him)
ma+mama say, “don’t go around that—, go around that way— (ayy)
i+i+i can get you sitchy with this glizzy if you fishy (do+do+do, do+do+do, do+do+do, do)
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