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young nudy - that's why lyrics

[intro]
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em (aw, aw man)
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em [?]
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em (drank)
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em (i got mine)
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em (i got mine, do you got yours?)
i got ’em, i got ’em, i got ’em (phew)

[verse 1]
i got all kinds
all type of sticks and that ain’t no lie
n#gga wanna play, i’ma pull up with fire
draco, ar#15 with the beam on
y’all ain’t wanna play, then stay home (stay home)
yeah, loaded full, loaded paper, loaded baked potato (yeah)
i got them young n#ggas ready to blaze ya
y’all n#ggas playin’, i turn you to a vapor
more and more money, more and more haters
sticks#r#us, they know not to play with us
grown man sh#t, n#gga, you’s a dummy
smoking crack rock, n#gga, you’s a junky
you like to fall off track, you’s a flunky
back in the trap all for me, i get money
with the rap sh#t, n#gga, back to my gunnin’
got my chains on, n#gga ain’t taking nothin’
in the booth turned up, n#gga, i got money
tryna have that b#tch lit from monday through sunday
loaded, loaded bank account got paper
loaded, loaded glock for my hater

[chorus]
pop in your house like i’m freddy krueger
young n#gga, glock with the ruger, ooh
i don’t really like to do the rugers, ooh
some of y’all n#ggas do what they gotta do
and they like to do what they gotta do
paid ’em in full just to come and shoot
boy, you know you through, boy, you know you done
man, they got the gun, boy, you better run
they don’t wanna hear the gunfire
they don’t wanna see their partner die
they don’t wanna see their mama cry
p#ssin’ on your grave when you die
got no remorse, no lie
get your get back, yeah, p#ssy#ass n#gga
but you can’t, p#ssy n#gga, ’cause you died, yeah (ahaha)
but you can’t, p#ssy n#gga, ’cause you died (yeah)

[verse 2]
yeah, i got my dawgs, man, i put sh#t in the bowl
they ain’t ate in a minute, they’ll shake ya
yeah, yeah, in beverly, n#gga, this money don’t make us
yeah, yeah, came from the hood, ogs didn’t make us
yeah, f#ck is you talkin’ ’bout, n#gga? (yeah)
what is they talking ’bout? nothin’, they bluffin’
talking ’bout money but they ain’t getting nothin’
i can see a n#gga, y’ain’t doin’ nothin’
look at your pockets, man, you ain’t got nothin’
i’m like, “d#mn, bruh, that don’t make no sense
you ain’t got no money, not even fifty cents
you can’t buy no f#cking cigarette or sh#t
talking ’bout beef, man, put that to a end
i cannot beef with no jake, not my friend
i’ma chase the money if it ain’t comin’ in
i get more money than i ever did
i had to cut ’em off, i finally went in
keep me a money counter ’cause it print
i’m thumbing through money, thumbin’ through this sh#t
i got these hoes in the trap bent
dumb and the booted perc’ kickin’ in
hit her from the back, now i’m going in
suck me up, b#tch, say h#llo to my friend
many, many, many mac#10s
and the car black tint
late night, she sucking, f#cking
that ain’t nothin’
thinking ’bout the time i had her with her friend
i just reminisce

- young nudy lyrics

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