Testo Homicide - Moneybagg Yo feat. YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Testo della canzone Homicide (Moneybagg Yo feat. YoungBoy Never Broke Again), tratta dall'album Fed Baby’s
To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
Put your phone off, bitch, you tweaking, trying to record
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
They throwing shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off
He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off?
I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off
Yellow bitch, yellow diamonds, ooh, I'm pissed off
The way she love me and she fuck me, ooh she getting off
He talking hard, approach him, watch how fast he get soft
Rapid fire, nothin' stop him, choppers letting off
If I catch you I'm getting off
I'm tryna knock your whole shit off
You and your mans too, I'll drop the bag on the whole crew
Ben be suffocating, the hundreds they be all blue
I'm on a whole another level, the bitches, they all-new
Speaking of bitches, a bitch tryna get off on Instagram 'cause I fell back
Why you ain't make a post how you fucked the whole clique, bitch go tell that, hah
These rappers tryna sneak diss, tryna get off to get on, hah
Catch their ass in public, they gon' get right and get gone
To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
Put your phone off, bitch, you tweaking, tryin' to record
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
They throwing shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off
He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off?
I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off
Before the rap money, young nigga was balling way before it
I don't do no talkin', I drop a bag on them then nigga you know it
I bought me a pint of that Hi-Tech, I crack it and pour it
I crunch up the X, end up in my mouth, you know that I throw it
She all in my section, she steady keep pressing, but no, she don't know it
When I'm up in Texas, I ride with that Wesson, just me and my boys
I swear it's controlling me, seventeen, got four sons
Tryna go cop me 'bout four foreign
Studio on the bus, I'm touring
I swear I don't put no effort in these songs
Bet these niggas pissed off, mad at me and Bagg, aw
Grandma gone, I hold it down
No I won't flock, I keep it strong
These bitches be aching, I steady be raking
So when I'm recording, don't call my phone
To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
Put your phone off, bitch, you tweaking, tryin' to record
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
They throwing shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off
He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off?
I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off
Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Price, Kentrell Gaulden, Demario White
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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