yung brownie – f u c k lyrics
[intro]
(it’s me, omniscious)
[verse 1: only.ty]
f+ck the game, f+ck the fame, f+ck you
i don’t even know why i go to school, ayy
i shoot my shot from d, what it do?
i get happy when i shoot my tool, yeah
my n+gga, now it’s on his muh’f+ckin’ tooth (yeah)
you got a problem, let’s do what it do
i robbed the bank, i want all that loot, yeah
take the sh+t in front of you, that’s my payday
you actin’ tough, then run my fa+ade
say what you want, but i’m always gettin’ pa+aid
you a freaky+ass n+gga, got yo’ ass ate
i’m chillin’ with your f+ckin’ girl, i call her ba+ae
and i’m here for l, i’ma sta+ay
at night, n+ggas goin’ to h+ll ’cause you ga+ay
now it’s ’bout to dunk on ’em like lebron james
and i’ma throw this sh+t up like dwayne wade
[verse 2: kingchri$]
we dunkin’ on these lil’ n+ggas
hypin’ sh+t with midget f+ckers, no partyin’
just bouncin’ out the crib with b+tches and our middle fingers
a+ and asian b+tches with some mewtwo hourglass figures
but i’ll take your funny commentary+ass pitches
run it back like i’m a f+ckin’ tugboat
need a b+tch with a back and a b+tt vogue
she need a rack too, just stay up and float
we goin’ up nonstop ’til we up, ho
and the street is wack, that’s a new promo
f+ck around and end up like a h0m+
all you n+ggas keep actin’ not a gomo
stop the rap cap, you can’t even fold, bro
i run this b+tch, y’all better call me cuomo
(is it my turn yet?) a+a+ahem
[verse 3: fugazi naz]
cuomo in this b+tch, i dip the sauce all on yo’ miss
you know we laugh like this is twitch ’cause all my n+ggas gettin’ rich
i keep that b+tch right out my door, yeah, that ho out there ignore, uh
body out spoke, then i leave one in the morgue, uh
f+ckin’ that b+tch, i’m chronic
they love my sound, yeah, i’m like chronic
doin’ the dash, am i like sonic
and she and her family just platonic
i’m ready to bust like i’m a rocket
i’m a freak, she outta pocket
man, you n+ggas are sharin’ profit
’cause you just talk like you some muppets
[interlude: fugazi naz]
uh, ayy, yuh
ha+ha, oh lo+ hol’ up
gitchy, get back to him
gitchy, get back
uh, uh
f+ck!
[verse 4: fugazi naz]
leave him limp to the potty, shots, they hit like lit bacardi
i can make your b+tch growl down like whitney was f+ckin’
k!ll yo’ f+ckin’ witty
i’m gettin’ bars, so i told her “f+ck me where i f+ck your titty”
f+ck your pity, b+tch, yuh!
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