a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

ysr gramz - beecher to bompton lyrics

[intro]
(i got so much enrgy)

[verse 1: ysr gramz]
n+gga, i’m from beecher (b’s up)
all my n+ggas is some creatures (yeah)
we gon’ slide in the— we gon’ slide in that eater
i want five for a feature (i want five)
you kissin’ on that b+tch, i wouldn’t keep her
n+ggas hoes, n+ggas ain’t on sh+t and they broke (yeah)
we got a chopper with a scope and i keep it in my coat
it get scary in the 810, n+ggas know
everywhere i go, i keep my pole (yeah)
everywhere i go, i get a low
a n+gga play with gramz, we gon’ do a n+gga bold (ayy, get that n+gga)
i don’t trust a soul, ’cause everybody fold
i’d rather hit the block and gеt it gone, you hit the road
slide on that n+gga, don’t bе shootin’ at no homes
7.62s broke his bones like i’m jones (get it?)
a n+gga hit my line talkin’ ’bout he got the ‘bows
i put my n+ggas on ’em, now them b+tches all gone
doggy on that opp sh+t, my n+ggas, they gon’ drop sh+t
f+ck the other side, we gon’ slide with them mopsticks
chopper with the wood and them b+tches look like chopsticks (ayy)

[verse 2: fatboy bizzle]
ayo, gramz, let me talk my sh+t
ayy, n+gga, this bompton, but my n+gga, he from beecher (ugh)
high school, was tryna f+ck on a teacher, i don’t want her, i don’t need her (ugh)
in traffic, probably slidin’ with an eater (ugh)
she just love to give me face, i don’t eat her, get my nut, then i leave her (ugh)
b+tch p+ssy soakin’, she a creamer (ugh)
sh+lls leave his head hot like a fever, where n+ggas fake ’cause of skeeter (ugh)
man, these n+ggas b+tches, n+ggas wieners (ugh)
vvs diamonds bustin’ out the meter, i be fly like i’m peter (ugh)
n+gga, i be fly like i’m peter pan (ugh)
f+ck around, whack an opp, then i do my dance (ugh)
you used to be the man, now you pick up cans (ugh)
b+tch, i used to want you, now i want your friend (ugh)
beat a n+gga ass up like i got eight hands (uh)
i’m finna have a ninesome, my b+tch brought eight friends (ugh)
i think i’m finna od, i’m off eight xans (ugh)
a n+gga say he want a verse from me, i need eight bands
[verse 3: ysr gramz]
you the type to jump in n+ggas’ beef, then take stands
seen your opposition f+ckin’ ’round and just shake hands
i learned how to jugg in the a down by bank head
if you ain’t down low, ysr, you a fake fan
beat a n+gga ass for tryna serve me some fake xans
i was on the block gettin’ money, ain’t ate yet
i’ma bring drich on the tour, he gon’ take sh+t
he hit the road and came back home, he ain’t make sh+t
we throwin’ big b’s in the parkin’ lot
got into a shootout the other day for a parking spot
paid me five hundred for a feature, bought another glock

[outro: ysr gramz]
ysr sh+t
beecher to bompton

- ysr gramz lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS