young nudy - jungle lyrics
[intro]
shoo, shoo, uh, shoo, shoo, uh, shoo, uh, shoo
i’m a real one, know what’s happenin’
shoo
[verse]
i’m in the jungle (i’m in the jungle)
i am a jungle boy (boy)
i got them sticks, yeah (sticks)
don’t come through the jungle, boy (jungle)
know we gotta stick with tree
know we smoke all the tree
smokin’ big cali weed (cali)
i’m from paradise east (paradise)
i been ballin’, right? (ballin’)
livin’ life like i’m in paradise (yeah)
whole lotta money got me livin’ right
y’all n-ggas ain’t livin’ right
stomach hurt, you ain’t feelin’ right
b-tches hate to be in my life
i’ll tell a ho, “f-ck your life”
hurt a b-tch feelin’ all the time
i’m gettin’ money, yeah, all the time
b-tches always hittin’ my line
b-tch, ain’t no f-ckin’ ho, get out my spot
b-tch, this a real trap spot
know the block stay hot
know them glocks hangin’ out
young n-ggas hangin’ out
in the street with them 30’s hangin’ out
yeah, b-tch, you wanna see
come in the hood, yeah, i am o.g.
i be smokin’ lotta weed, sip lean
baby girl, r.i.p. to pimp c
all the lean made ’em follow me
in the streets, man, they follow me
n-ggas hatin’ ’cause these n-ggas can’t follow me
p-ssy n-gga, boy, don’t start with me
i got shooters wanna see, where you n-ggas like to head
like where you be, we gon’ pull up where you be
hunnid round drum put a n-gga straight to sleep
now your hood screamin’ r.i.p. (r.i.p.)
everybody wearin’ t-shirts
yeah, i know that they sh-t hurtin’ (oh ya)
yeah, you don’t wanna see
don’t wanna see your homie on white tees
man, you n-ggas better pull up with white flags
‘fore you end up in white bags
y’all n-ggas out here playin’, i’ll pull up on a n-gga
spin a n-gga so fast
matter of fact, i got money just to spend
my n-gga goin’ hit up your friends
i ain’t with the talkin’ sh-t ’cause all the talkin’ for the b-tches
and i be f-ckin’ all these b-tches, so why you actin’ like a b-tch
i hit you with the stick, glock hold a d-ck
i ain’t with that sh-t, shoot a n-gga, put him on his period
i ain’t with the beefin’ sh-t, period
’cause when it come to beef, sh-t get serious
i’m shootin’ at mama and children
y’all n-ggas ain’t with that type of sh-t
i’m with all that type of sh-t
yeah, kidnap your b-tch
gettin’ money, yeah, i’m bout that sh-t
hold your b-tch for ransom
i got a stick, make her dancer
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