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ysr gramz - good in beecher lyrics

[intro: babytron & rmc mike]
huh, akhi play with tnt, hit yo block and fire, yeah
what up, gramz? what up, stupid dog?
b+tch
ayy, huh

[verse 1: babytron]
akhi play with tnt, hit yo block and firebomb it
call lil’ brodie “tony stark”, he keep that iron on him
two charms bust straight from hutch got me shining on ’em
cuz got a pockets full of hitters, mike tysons on him
treat freeways like landing strips, i be flying on ’em
strikers ain’t got no plates on ’em when we sliding on ’em
in the jungle with some k!llers, put some lions on ’em
drew brees thigh pads on me, put the .9 up on him
good in beecher, b+tch, i’m tapped in with them sack runners
unky, he don’t drink no wock’, he used to be a act’ guzzler
working like a team, i got the front, bro got the back covered
smooth with the words but f+ck around and let the mag stutter
cheese on an opp’s head, he’s an aaron rodgers fan
embosser and a writer, never worked with pots and pans
bullets hot as h+ll, i shot ’em at him, think he got a tan
course there’s ‘bows around, dumbass, i’m in the spot with gramz
[verse 2: ysr gramz]
i’ll have babytron jugg you, yeah, we gotta ham
i been taxing n+ggas for a long time, uncle sam
n+gga, calm the f+ck down, you is not the man
pull a chop out on a n+gga, make that n+gga ran
“how this young n+gga out the city?”, i’m from beecher, man
i can teach you how to get some money, i’m a teacher, man
pull up to a opp n+gga house like a pizza man
this n+gga talk too much, he a preacher, man
i lost my n+gga [?] got me going brazy
yo baby daddy broke, y’all got a broke baby
i know some n+ggas throwing up them c’s, they be going crazy
you don’t get no motherf+cking money ’cause you f+cking lazy
i ain’t talking ’bout no b+tch, he come take yo soul, baby
put a b+tch on that n+gga, take his pole, baby
i be fresh as h+ll, that off+white, you rock old navy
i be walking with a stick, n+gga, like a old lady

[verse 3: rmc mike]
sh+t, i just got a pint of wock’ from my old lady
remember back in northern high school i went girbaud crazy
i just got my license to carry, went pole crazy
my sis slap two everywhere like i’m [?]
me and gramz’ll stomp a n+gga out if he act stupid
i don’t believe sh+t them n+ggas say, they make cap music
treat my b+tch p+ssy like a mic, i’m finna rap to it
i stop spice talking for a minute, now i’m back to it
take it back from when we first started, finna press the gas
b+tch can’t suck d+ck for sh+t but got impressive ass
it’s a plr, all you see is fire when the weapon flash
i think his engine finna stop, bro, check the gas
ghetto boyz [?] sack runner and a sh+tty gang
my glock stutter like it’s tq when the semi spray
as of right now i can pull a hunnid out any day
i bet that dbx go through anything when it penitrate
b+tch

- ysr gramz lyrics

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