Testo Hatër - Yeat
Testo della canzone Hatër (Yeat), tratta dall'album 2 Alivë (Geëk Pack)
Yeah, I came with a blick, I just brought the fire (bah)
I can't fuck with none of these lames, they a fuckin' lie (lie)
Bitch, you know this get insane, you could fuckin' die (yeah, yeah)
I just pulled up in a Bentley, it got frog eyes (yeah, woo)
Yeah, huh, I'm a fire guy
Walked inside the building with some grease, I'm servin' Five Guys (woo)
You ain't got no racks, don't got no bags
You can't even fuck with us, ah (woo)
You ain't got your swag, you ain't got no bags
You can't even fuck with us, ah (yeah, broke)
They some haters, they ain't fuckin' with the mob, ah (no)
Bitch, you broke, that ain't with me, that's not my job (nah)
All my money do a jump, it do a jog, ah (lil' jog)
When you pull up with the blick, yeah
We gon' stretch him (bah-bah-bah)
All my pockets overloaded, it's overwhelming (ah)
How you know 'bout all this shit?
Man, you a fuckin' spy (ack)
We got mob ties, baby got a felon (bah, bah, bah, bah)
Fuckin' on your thot, she suckin' dick, she bring the mail in (go)
Bitch, I get the head, I get her melon
Ridin' 'round the city like a demon, like a villain
Bitch, I take these Percocets all day, I ain't got no feeling (phew)
Ridin' in a double-R Tonka, baby, stars in the ceiling (skrrt)
Ooh, yeah, hey, walkin' in the building, I'ma gon' pull it up (woo)
We been up all day, I'm off Adderall (okay)
I just pulled up in a Lamb', no I'm not your friend (fuck 'em)
Fuckin' on your thot, fuckin' on your friend (fuck 'em)
I can't fuck with nobody, that's not my best friend (not my friend)
I just bought a brand-new chain, a brand new necklace, yeah
Ridin' in a Bentley, ridin' in a turn
I can't fuckin' with nobody, I'm sellin' stain (stain)
I just took a Percocet, I took a crank, I'm insane
Yeah, I came with a blick, I just brought the fire (bah)
I can't fuck with none of these lames, they a fuckin' lie (lie)
Bitch, you know this get insane, you could fuckin' die (yeah, yeah)
I just pulled up in a Bentley, it got frog eyes (yeah, woo)
Yeah, huh, I'm a fire guy
Walked inside the building with some grease, I'm servin' Five Guys (woo)
You ain't got no racks, don't got no bags
You can't even fuck with us, ah (woo)
You ain't got your swag, you ain't got no bags
You can't even fuck with us, ah (yeah, broke)
They some haters, they ain't fuckin' with the mob, ah (no)
Bitch, you broke, that ain't with me, that's not my job (nah)
All my money do a jump, it do a jog, ah (lil' jog)
When you pull up with the blick, yeah
We gon' stretch him (bah-bah-bah)
All my pockets overloaded, it's overwhelming (ah)
How you know 'bout all this shit?
Man, you a fuckin' spy (ack)
We got mob ties, baby got a felon (bah, bah, bah, bah)
Fuckin' on your thot, she suckin' dick, she bring the mail in
(Go, go)
Credits
Writer(s): Yeat, Divjot Abhol
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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