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yung sinn – on they azz lyrics

[intro]
(morley, you a fool for this one)
everybody know that boy a fool
yeah, yeah, yeah
these n+ggas broke as f+ck, on my mama
yeah, he still ridin’ in a honda
(king of the court)

[chorus]
yeah, i’m in your hood with the g+ride, a sheet to cover the tag
everybody gun came with a bag
on my mama, we comin’ to smash
yeah, we shoot up the birthday bash
yeah, we servin’ the opp folks grass
put it in her throat, watchin’ her gag
i get on this mic’ and i get on they ass
yeah, big bullets for the perpetrating
opp pack, this is the dead fragrance
yeah, run up, watch how i head take ’em
yeah, stick pancake ’em
f+ck n+gga, you not a real robber
yeah, i’m buckin’ on you, i’m a shot caller
yeah, stick on a martyr
yeah, he mad ’cause the f+ck n+gga falling
[verse 1]
yeah, why you bringin’ her up? she calling
my closet, i done put them all in
ice bust, faucet
yeah, you gon’ die if our paths keep crossing
yeah, ransom gang, he a hostage
have big bro runnin’ this sh+t, he an ostrich
i might just shoot at that ho if she toxic
walk in the club drunk, alcoholic
yeah, you better not mention lil’ shorty
i got the four+fizzy and the forty
mental health shooter, i swear i’m r+t+rded
he talkin’ that f+ck sh+t, we disregard it
walked in here with my gun even though i’m tardy
yeah, fill his ass up with that poison
got shot in his head ’cause his ass was yawning
ain’t no sleepin’ on a mission, you pointless
you can’t walk behind me, i’m still kind of jointed
i watch for the backstabs, see ’em coming
yeah, trap, yeah, it do numbers
walk in the club hittin’ with these pointers
if you reach for my chain, get hit with this thunder
yeah, hit just like ronda
we pulled out them bl!cks, that boy a track runner
yeah, gave that boy the forrest gump+er
[chorus]
yeah, i’m in your hood with the g+ride, a sheet to cover the tag
everybody gun came with a bag
on my mama, we comin’ to smash
yeah, we shoot up the birthday bash
yeah, we servin’ the opp folks grass
put it in her throat, watchin’ her gag
i get on this mic’ and i get on they ass
yeah, big bullets for the perpetrating
opp pack, this is the dead fragrance
yeah, run up, watch how i head take ’em
yeah, stick pancake ’em
f+ck n+gga, you not a real robber
yeah, i’m buckin’ on you, i’m a shot caller
yeah, stick on a martyr
yeah, he mad ’cause the f+ck n+gga falling

[verse 2]
f+ck n+gga know how we ride through
we ain’t drivin’, yeah, i swear we gon’ walk through
yeah, he got shot in his hood, soul food
didn’t i tell you that them spinners gon’ eat you?
yeah, yeah, chop him up, he tofu
vegeta charm on my motherf+ckin’ watch blue
yeah, back ’em back, chopper gon’ disintegrate all the haters
we smokin’ your folks in the booth, yeah, i swear i’m a ball player
yeah, we drawin’ down on the traitors
got whacked for tryna be a saver
yeah, walked in, had thirty+one flavors
different kind of opp packs, we blaze ’em
my twin got so many years, it ain’t faze him
i’ma put a knife to his skull like jesus
yeah, slaughter gang, that’s the label
i had to stand on that block for the cable
i had to pay to shut up the neighbors
’cause my trap was beatin’ like grady
i took his ho, he call her his lady
she tryna say i gave her a baby
you lyin’, ho, show me some paper
you lyin’, ho, show me some—
[chorus]
yeah, i’m in your hood with the g+ride, a sheet to cover the tag
everybody gun came with a bag
on my mama, we comin’ to smash
yeah, we shoot up the birthday bash
yeah, we servin’ the opp folks grass
put it in her throat, watchin’ her gag
i get on this mic’ and i get on they ass
yeah, big bullets for the perpetrating
opp pack, this is the dead fragrance
yeah, run up, watch how i head take ’em
yeah, stick pancake ’em
f+ck n+gga, you not a real robber
yeah, i’m buckin’ on you, i’m a shot caller
yeah, stick on a martyr
yeah, he mad ’cause the f+ck n+gga falling

- yung sinn lyrics

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