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yung berg – bitch please lyrics

[intro:]
b-tch please, you ain’t never met a n-gg- like me.
stop lyin b-tch please, b-tch please,
and ya n-gg- ain’t nothin like me.
stop lyin n-gg- please, n-gg- please,
my goons got guns on deck put yo picture on t,
say cheese, and you can die or live off of i.v’s.

now let me get that hand clap, yah,
let me get that hand clap. i’m rich and black.
i’m young and strapped. you goin get yo man clapped,
you goin get yo clan clapped. you goin get saran wrapped,
like where the van at?
we come and wake you up, where you layin at?
we dug ya body out, where ya fam at? like f-ck that.
like d-mn that. sit ya p-ssy -ss down if you can’t stand that.
i make yo shirt look like yo favorite color crayon out.
go and let these b-tch n-gg-s ahead, like i stand back.
ain’t sh-t goody b-tch n-gg- stand back.
i ain’t from st. louis, but you can get ram shacked.
look into my eyes ho, look into my eyes ho.
and yeah i do numbers, except five-0.
and i’ll be with my zoe, we call him brisco.
and youngin got the beat poppin like crisco.
and weezy got this sh-t crackin like nabisco.
brim low, all i can see is my flow.
what’s up chicago? what’s up new orleans? and if ya strapped squeeze.
and tell the f-ck n-gg- please, n-gg- please.
my goons got guns on deck.
n-gg- d. i. e. or live off i.v’s.
it’s what i am with tha yb’s

get em

fresher than a baby’s bottom crazy like an insane asylum
me and wayne sippin’ lean out a baby’s bottle (syrup)
fake n-gg-s relay around em t
hey just tryna se my face up in the paper column
mad cause i’m gettin colin farel paper chalie
and my girl won’t wear it if it ain’t kavali.
cute face, slim waist, call the baby
halle f-ckin hoes doin shows my two favorite hobbied yeah.
and i’m fresh up off the scream tour bright lights big city
you should come and see the show
13 girls, 13th floor, 13 pills anything goes.
i walk around with my crown on millionare
and i ain’t never throw a cap and gown on…
young boss, young money, got the young t-tle
i hit her with the young d-ck and make that b-tch suicidal

n-gg- please, would you tell yo sister, babymama, wife,
stop callin me i’m busy getting money.

holla when you need me i be on dat goon sh-t
know to ride or die for every n-gg- i fool
with this o.g n-gg- show me loved
but never let me in his house or intoduced me to his blood…
i asked him why you don’t have a care in the world
he said you gotta learn alot and welcome to the underworld (underworld)
yeah exstortion, murder
and every since then i’ve been a f-ckin ninja turtle cowabunga…

young brisc from hood ducked off in the old school marquis…
n-gg- please your woo game won’t work
think you a soulja i’m a put him on a camoflauge shirt…
berg, weezy, look what i did to em’ choppa style gon’
and put a cig to em’and you know how i know o silly cause
i did all that sh-t with my babymama with me…

stop playin b-tch n-gg- you don’t know what i got tucked in my pants
it go blam, it go bam i’m sayin, i’m sayin,
you playin put a d-ck up in your mouth boy watch what the f-ck u sayin
do you know who the f-ck i am b-tch i’m a man…

now let me get that hand clap, that hand clap
i’m saying…
it’s yung berg, weezy, briscoe too d-mn hot… hot d-mnn…

- yung berg lyrics

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