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yn jay & rmc mike - dancing with the stars lyrics

[intro: yn jay]
b+tch
(i don’t give a f+ck about sh+t)
b+tch (like, nothin’)
yeah

[verse 1: yn jay]
two glocks, one ar, three draco’s on me
talking down on your mans, you must hate your homie
you eating bullsh+t protein, that’s fake baloney
why her face only pretty when she got makeup on it?
you just popped up out the bed, she got a wake up moment
can tell the weed dookie by the shake up on it
i can hit your b+tch, only take a moment
it only take a second, ayy
i hit your b+tch on the first try, you on take seven
on some bullsh+t salad, he got fake lettuce
i just rolled two dice, i’m tryna make seven
thought he was good, n+gga died in his safe haven
spin the b+tch quick as f+ck, i’m finna beyblade her
pulled in my driveway, she looking at my cars
i hit a b+tch in a roles royce, we dancing with the stars
n+gga weak as h+ll, but his family hard
b+tch p+ssy gooder than a candy bar
this n+gga granddad weak as h+ll, but his granny hard
back in the day, i beat his ass in his granny yard
you don’t wanna rap battle with me, i got granny bars
he made me mad, i beat his ass and sold his granny bars
and i ain’t talking rap bars, i’m talking xanny bars
everybody share one with me, that’s the family car
finna buy a brand new v, and make it the family car
she did me bold but i still love her, i can’t stand my heart
i think i know your people, who your family are?
where your family is?
i can’t believe this b+tch really think we locked in, she at my granny crib
[verse 2: rmc mike]
ha, ah
b+tch, i never make a play where my family live
in bikini bottom, finna pull up at sandy crib
i’m finna slide with my brother glock, it’s barely his
how the f+ck you pour a three, and we barely sip?
pull out and bust right on her face, like i’m scared of kids
ran in the crib with a scream mask, finna scare the kids
i dug it up and smoked a n+gga with it, it’s a dirty sig
okay, the drank can’t beat my ass but this thirty is
forty one presidential on, whipping a thirty six
watch me bust it down and split, this a dirty brick
automatic three like kyrie with the curry mix
the opps dropped double zero, on some james worthy sh+t
they ain’t hitting nothing
i was in the a with snow, and i ain’t even bluffing
i’ma hit her, then forget her, i ain’t even cuffing
i’m tryna f+ck her off two thirties, i can’t even function
she gave me ten thousand blues, and i ain’t even stuff her
she gave me tomato top, i ain’t even f+ck her
yeah
i know who smoked your mans, but i ain’t seen nothing
told that b+tch that i love her, i ain’t mean nothing
b+tch, we got it out the mud, now our team bussing
like diamonds with the [?] color
yeah
i done drunk so much purple, this my pee color
i can’t let you suck my d+ck ’cause your t++th b+tter
n+gga, you ain’t made no profit, you a re+upper
we done had this sh+t on lock the last three summers
[verse 3: louie ray]
i don’t want no old sh+t, she gotta be younger
pull up with some fine sh+t, i’m heading [?]
she gon’ say i smell good, [?]
looking [?] cologne on
i ain’t smoking what you smoke, that’s the homegrown
801+3—, that’s the old phone
i left flint for ’bout a year, now all my hoes gone
can’t make it [?]
cartier shades, but the sides chrome
i’m might try to f+ck, i don’t sign hoes
i ain’t shopping at the mall, i go and find clothes
he gave me half on this twenty, that’s a lock and load
you got twenty clean shots, that’s how a glock load
drinking lean better when the pop cold
ain’t no feds playing with me, i can’t stop shows
why he got the gun? never blew one
i’m tryna find a pint tonight, do one
don’t ever say i’m a b+tch, n+gga, you one
i couldn’t find a b+tch out here, that’s why i flew one
screen across the whole dash, this the new one
don’t tell me what you would do, you don’t do none
we hit your car, hit the blue b+tton
i got something going out, something new coming
i said it was gon’ happen, like i knew something
he got drank, looking like he wanna do some
[outro: louie ray]
(what you wanna do?)

- yn jay rmc mike lyrics

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