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young pappy – i phones lyrics

[intro]
2 cups, two blunts
the f-ck is this? shorty -ss tweaking
dopey-dopey-dope, wait hold on!

[verse 1]
who the f-ck is this on my line this time?
broke b-tch, i ain’t got a dime this time
talking ‘bout you pregnant, girl, you lying this time cause i know i strapped up
boy, it’s real in the field, so you know i’m strapped up
it’s real, all the wrong niggas getting clapped up
know it’s real when your own nigga get clapped up, but he die right next to you
turn your savage up, do a drill when he next to you
boy, that pole ain’t real, who you flexing to?
girl, i just want some top, i ain’t sexing you
say i p-ss on that, gas on deck
93 gas, i smash on that
let ’em free spazz and i’ll spaz on a track
i ain’t never been a hoe, i’ll blast on pep, on pooh bear
knock, knock on your door, like “who there?”
put the pole to his face, like “you there!”
try to move out the way and take two there
nigga, i’m too real
nigga, it’s too real
don’t wanna cross a nigga like me, hoe
send shots, i ain’t talking ’bout free throw
smoke rock, i ain’t talking ’bout c-4
“you talking ’bout keno?”
“i’m talking ’bout rocket, man!”
got me higher than a rocket, man
30 on me, i’ll pop it, man
pbg got plug, no socket, man
ask bang, niggas know how we rocking, man, i ain’t flodging
got like 17 pair of true’s right now in my closet
got gucci, got louie, got robin’s
two cups, two blunts, two mollies, i do drugs, shorty
so i don’t even remember last time i f-cked, shorty
talm ’bout you pregnant, you can get off my line
so you must be drunk, shorty

[interlude]
i ain’t for none, shorty
on my life, shorty!
on my baby, though
f-ck is up with you?

[verse 2]
hold on
wait, wait, wait, hold on
who the f-ck is this on my line this time?
unknown number calling
probably my p.o., so i ain’t gon’ decline this time
“hello?”
“pap, you a b-tch, when i catch you, i’m nailing you, that’s on my homie, nigga!”
“what? what? f-ck your homie, nigga!
i’m in traffic right now with it on me, nigga, so come get up with me
matter fact, where you at? i’ma get up with you
i don’t give a f-ck who you with, they getting hit up with you
ambulance pick you up, they getting picked up with you
cause i ain’t missing not none of these
nigga, you ain’t getting one, you getting some of these
nigga, i do hits, that shit fun to me
nigga can’t say shit ‘bout what he done to me
i got shot, my homie got changed right in front of me
then keno died, then munchie died
a couple niggas got hit up, and they lucky that they -ss still alive
so get off my phone!”
i don’t know what’s wrong, nigga talm ’bout he wanna do a song
i think he tryna set a nigga up, but you know i ain’t going
tell him, “f-ck nigga, leave me alone!”
wait, hold on!

[interlude]
man, what the f-ck wrong with these niggas, man?
these niggas funny as hell, brody!
go get you some f-cking money, man
my shit clapping, on my baby, though
on my life!

[verse 3]
who the f-ck is this on my line this time?
“what up, bro? they call me mack
man, i’m tryna get a feature”
“well you know i’m finna tax
nigga, how much you got?”
“i got 650,”
“nigga, i need seven”
“come on, bro, work with me!”
“alright, send the western union, send the beat to the e-mail!
and send it to yahoo, i don’t give out my gmail!”
you don’t motherf-cking know me from the old me
i ain’t even saying it like i’m a o.g
put in work by myself, nigga, f-ck four deep
do a drill, bandanna on, f-ck low key
nigga, we be so deep, on the block selling hard
pop out 3 o’clock, all the way to graveyard
my brother told me, “work hard, play hard!”
got shells for these niggas that just wanna play hard
wait, hold on!

- young pappy lyrics

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