youngboy never broke again – bitch yeah lyrics
[intro]
(timmy da hitman)
huh, what?
what? what? what? what? what?
what? what?
[verse 1]
what’s crackin’? what? (what?)
or whatever i’m brackin’ on, b+tch
yeah, that my blood (that my blood), i got all fives ’round this b+tch
these hoes wan’ f+ck, these n+ggas can’t f+ck with none of us in this b+tch
i’ma hit at your clique with the stick (baow)
make me turn your lil’ boys to a l!ck (a l!ck)
i got stripper big booty b+tches blowin’ up on my phone
too much swag, stylist come, i try on clothes inside of my home
put yo’ b+tch in vlone
b+tch, play what you please long as you don’t put no qc on
b+tch, i make you bleed, ho
b+tch, i know i bleed, ho
bang a red, five, big b, ho (h+ll, yeah)
b+tch, get on your knees, ho (yeah, yeah)
come on, suck it with no t++th, ho (yeah, yeah, yeah)
i’m rich, i’m rich, i’m rich, b+tch, i’m rich as sh+t
come get it, got her wit’ it
know i got her wit’ me, n+gga, come and gеt your b+tch
molly, molly, holly, wolly, hottie thottie wit’ a badass body
i don’t play that sh+t, i keep that chopper
i might buy mе a maserati
shoot that drum at that b+tch, it’s a thottie
‘fore i give you my sh+t, you know i’ma pop it
b+tch, give me yo’ soul, give me yo’ body
swag up the b+tch, pop off her mama
i get high in this b+tch, on soul
i’m so high in this b+tch, i’m gone
i might make a poppin n+gga b+tch come touch her toes
still’ll make a r&b b+tch come here and hand off her phone
give a f+ck ’bout how good she can sing, b+tch, get that phone, yeah
[bridge]
b+tch, get that phone, ho
huh, b+tch, get that phone, yeah+yeah
huh, b+tch, get that phone, ho
b+tch, get that phone, oh yeah+yeah+yeah
[verse 2]
my brothers, they kick in that door (yeah+yeah)
i don’t like that n+gga or ho (yeah+yeah)
i don’t like that lil’ boy or his b+tch
i do not like my ho for to hear none of these songs
like when i breakin’ her back to my songs
makin’ these b+tches stack racks at home
clingy type of time you on
buy me clothes that fit me right
i don’t know who f+ckin’ side you on
i just know if it’s wrong, it ain’t real right
i ain’t f+ckin’ on her every night
i ain’t put money on yo’ head, that’s right
bang red, that blood, my thug, my five
you know slime could get this party hype
shootout, soon as i get outside
rudolph, beam on his nose and eyes
chew+out, which one gon’ eat me right?
geeker than geeked, i’m higher than high, uh+huh
i’m more geeked up than geeked, and i’m higher than high, b+tch
i get higher with her when i’m shoppin’ online, b+tch, yeah
i can get out my words through this everytime (b+tch, yeah)
yeah, and this b+tch here again without you on my side (b+tch, yeah)
yeah, i’ma slime, b+tch, don’t play with my mind, and you know you might die (b+tch, yeah)
i got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (b+tch, yeah)
i got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (b+tch, yeah)
[outro]
i got more money than you lil’ boys, y’all some b+tches (b+tch, yeah)
i can’t even drive and got more cars, your sh+t is leased or rented (b+tch, yeah)
know we make sh+t hot, pop out rolls royce, on back got switches (b+tch, yeah)
i don’t give no f+ck ’bout who a star, i don’t want you b+tches (b+tch, yeah)
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