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young dro – i’m sick’ud lyrics

[intro w/ ad-libs]
get cool…
aye, ya know what they be talkin bout when they say i’m sick’ud man?
i had to make this one shawty, i’m talkin’ ’bout fo’real
ya know we be ballin to the point where we can’t take it no mo’ man

[chorus w/ ad-libs]
man i’ve been ballin’ to the point where i’m sick’ud
kush steady fallin’ out the blunt and i’m sick’ud
these hoes tryin’ to pull stunts and i’m sick’ud
grand hustle make a million e’ry mont’, i’m sick’ud
man i’ve been ballin’ to tha point where i’m sick’ud
kush steady fallin’ out tha blunt and i’m sick’ud
these hoes tryin’ to pull stunts and i’m sick’ud
grand hustle make a million e’ry mont’, i’m sick’ud

[verse 1]
f-ck that, i’m sick’ud, fish scale pr-ckly
this got irene cuts, i want a stick ‘ud
hoes can’t trick’ud, my d-ck they l!ck the tip’ud
everyday they test the choppa, they can get tha whole clip’ud
twenty-nine b-tch! don’t forget to add an inch’ud
30 inch ashanti, i’m m-th-f-ckin sick’ud
yea that sh-t was smokin, but i’d rather have this bud
ya broad gave me the p-ssy, she ain’t want nothin but a key for’ud
drama, i am here for’ud, +king+ like +clifford+
+best thang smokin+, gon’ take a d-mn whiff of’ud
cocaine game, everybody want a sniff of’ud
young dro, e’rybody holla i’m sick’ud

[chorus w/ ad-libs]

[verse 2]
sick’ud believe me, ridin down peach street
atl and dro, i just be hatin where the reefer be
i can turn a block, and check a b-tch who got a g for me
i can hear ’em charge black legacy wit cecil “c”
cbe the cl!ck, that’s where that bad -ss reefer be
bottom of the list, that’s where them mad -ss people be
jag color cream of wheat, lyrics come in fever heat
diamonds on my daughter neck, same color as tweety tweet
i can make the heater breathe, hanging out the beemer jeep
b-tches say they f-ck wit dro, but they ain’t never seen a “g”
drop top, green chevy, thang look like a pickle too
ridin through the hood, all them hoes be like “i’m sick of youuuuuuu!”

[chorus w/ ad-libs]

[verse 3]
when it come to ballin, i’m sick wit the cheese
the charm on my neck, cost 8,000 three’s (jumpers!)
i’ll sting a n-gga, like 8,000 bees (bzzzz!)
and gettin to the money here, 8,000 keys (that’s my dough!)
and tryin dro, is like tryin 8,000 me’s (that’s a bunch of people!)
juve’ cool, but this sh-t here is 8,000 degrees (w-ssup juve!)
i moved up out the hood, to a lakehouse in belize (where you go?)
i poison fake playas, and make ’em break out in disease (uuughhh)
bullets blow like a breeze, when they take off for ya knees (pow! pow!)
.223’s knock yo playas arms straight of ya sleeves (where my arm go?)
shawty please, i’m the sniper, plus i’m tha greatest
i’m sick of you, ya’ll n-ggas need to stop hatin man, droooooo!!

[ 1/2 chorus w/ ad-libs]

[outro w/ ad-libs]
i’m sick of you, i’m sick of you
i’m sick of you, i’m sick of you
i’m sick, i’m-i’m-i’m sick
i’m sick, i’m-i’m-i’m sick
i’m sick of you, i’m sick of you
i’m sick of you, i’m sick of you
i’m sick of you, i’m sick of you
i’m sick of you, i’m sick of you
i’m sick of you – droooooo!!

- young dro lyrics

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