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maybe hewie – yo buckaroo! lyrics

[intro: ajy]
h+ll yeah it’s ajy!

[verse 1: vapey]
hewie pull up on a p+ssy n+gga with a stick
i’m lil vapey with the sauce but i say that tostito dip
ajy be on the stage while lil xevent make a hit
and j wavvy in the bricks
throwing on that city drip
could give 2 f+cks bout what you say
i smoke on that metro train
n+ggas really k!ll for fame
i will never do the same
smoking on that buckaroo
n+gga who the f+ck are you?
anything for relevance
that’s why we don’t f+ck with you (facts!)

[verse 2: j wavvy]
n+gga you know that that’s facts (aye)
i just be getting them racks (aye)
i just be preaching them facts (aye)
run up on me got the strap (huh?)
run up on me got the gat (aye)
pull up i bust at your hat (hold up)
pull up i bust at your head (hold up)
pull up i bust in the trap
okay deadass (hold up, wait)
b+tch you know i got the gat (hold up)
b+tch you know i got the strap (hold up)
i be getting to them racks
b+tch we ’bout that action
b+tch we never lacking
b+tch we pistol packing
pistol automatic
got the automatic
get it up in traffic
if a n+gga want it he can really have it

[verse 3: maybe hewie & ajy]
sl!ck ass n+gga with a little bag of pennies
i be slippin’ off the henny
never dying like i’m kenny
ya’ll a little bit too friendly
set the function like a bomb
and i’m blowing up a twenty
(like “boom!”)
tell me how you get it
tell me how you live it
f+ck a honda civic cop a hummer
i don’t want a rental
madman hewie, he been lacking for a minute
but he like a cigarette
imma hit it ’till you quit it uh (yeah)

[verse 4: ajy]
she ain’t no bottle but i’m finna pop her top off
fire on the paper like another mother molotov
running to the finish line like olympian’s
we ain’t even similar like synonym
put it in cough it out like cinnamon
got a body like an angel
looking good in every angle
magical like fairy fable
speeding like wildfire finna be worldwide like (uh)

[verse 5: xevent]
look at my diamonds they flash (flash!)
hit that girl from the back (back)
and she call me dad (dad)
way too smoked up gonna call a cab
look at these b+tches
look at these look at these b+tches (b+tch)
they all snitches (snitches, b+tch!)
they all they all snitches (b+tch!)
up with my chop (chop!)
shoot at his top (top, yeah!)
yo f+ck a job (job!)
stamina like i’m snot
and she give me neck (neck)
yeah we on a private jet
hewie that’s my mans (mans)
rip that’s my set (set)

- maybe hewie lyrics

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