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ynw melly – gucci jacket lyrics

[intro]
yung lan on the track
how you do that cujo?
[?] made it
yeah

[chorus]
trappin’, cappin’, super dabbin’, bandin’ out on gucci jackets
quater-pounder, gun to pack, i stretched that sh-t like it’s elastic
boy, you fake, i know you plastic, molly got her flabbergasted
pull up with them .223 russian ak’s and automatics

[post-chorus]
p-ssy super soakin’, splashin’ water on her gucci shirt (oh my god)
[?] smith & wesson, packin’ d-ck inside the dirt (oh my lord)
givenchy flavored drippin’ on her fear of god mini skirt (yeah)
30. clip with forty glocks and semi-automatic bursts

[verse]
f-ck all of that talkin’ sh-t, you know lil’ melly shootin’ first
catch a n-gg- slippin’ and we bussin’ at his -ss on [?] (on [?])
.223’s and mac-11’s, knock that boy right off the earth (the earth)
yeah, that lil’ boy a b-tch, get the percs
yeah, that lil’ boy a b-tch, get the percs (get the percs)
get a ho some molly, rockin’, watch them b-tches smooch each other (smooch each other)
great young n-gg- broke his pockets, shorter than some coochie cutter (coochie cutter)
mainly posin’, pistol totin’, keep a pocket full of trojans (full of trojans)
p-ssy soakin’, buss it open, wetter than pacific ocean (pacific ocean)
hit him wit’ that f&n, now that boy body decomposin’ (mushroom)
pop that p-ssy for my clique and you might get some self promotion (mhm)
drako for all the commotion, up this b-tch wit’ no emotion
shorty got me overdosin’, ride that d-ck, a roller-coaster (oh)
roller-coaster that sh-t lil’ b-tch (lil’ b-tch)
pull up on him wit a stick (a stick)
melly baby, hittin’ licks (them licks)
run in yo’ house wit’ the sh-ts (the sh-ts)
yeah, i ride wit’ them young jits (them jits)
you n-gg-s be handin’ out bricks? (bricks)
you n-gg-s shippin’ them pounds? (them pounds)
you n-gg-s got glocks wit’ fifty rounds? (rounds)
you got n-gg-s, pull up, don’t make a sound? (lil’ b-tch)
get it, repeat, believe
he wanna [?] b-tch, i want patek philippe, yeah
i might just f-ck on a freak (freak), i wanna get back to me
and i might get a jet-ski
b-tches so wet, need a jet-ski (ski)
yeah, that my b-tch bestie (yes)
hit that lil’ b-tch with the [?] (my b-tch)
hit that lil’ b-tch with the [?] (the glock)
smoke his -ss, just like a ashtray (pssh)
ooh, d-mn, ho (d-mn, ho)
i swear to god i’m ’bout my fam’ though (my fam’ though)
feel like [?], finna [?] a n-gg-
melly baby, tryna rap a n-gg- (huh)
i’ma scammer, i’ma robber and a motherf-ckin’ trapper n-gg-
no, i am not no trapper n-gg-
and i think they just untapped a n-gg- (huh)
the feds in a young n-gg-s phone (phone)
these b-tches won’t leave me alone (‘lone)
i think that she gone off patrone
she gone off patrone (patrone)
what the f-ck goin’ on? (on)
let me get back inside my zone (my zone)
and tell that b-tch stop callin’ my phone, yeah, my cellular
she eat the d-ck up like a pizone, when she eat it up (ooh-oh)
go and suck it slow, i don’t want that b-tch no mo’
givenchy drippin’ all over her sneakers (huh)
got molly and we whip it out the beaker (out the beaker)
that’s melly jammin’ through yo’ f-ckin’ speakers (yeah it is)
my b-tch gon’ set it out, no queen latifah (yeah)
i’m smokin’ now, i’m smokin’ on that reefer (that loud)
you got it good, but i get the pound for cheaper (okay)
we bust it down, we break the sh-t and then crumble it (brumble it)
these n-gg-s fallin’, yeah, they crumblin’

[chorus]
they trappin’, cappin’, super dabbin’, bandin’ out on gucci jackets
quater-pounder, gun to pack, i stretched that sh-t like it’s elastic
boy, you fake, i know you plastic, molly got her flabbergasted
pull up with them .223 russian ak’s and automatics

- ynw melly lyrics

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