paroles de chanson YEA YEA - Rubberband O.G. , YFN Lucci
You
getting
money,
yo
trap
do
numbers?
You
bout
to
cop
a
foreign
car
for
the
summer?
Gotta
make
sure
you
got
some
solid
n*ggas
wit
you
Them
h*es
sweating
the
same
ones
who
used
to
diss
you
You
f*cking
h*es
now,
designer
clothes
now
You
got
shooters
ready
to
wipe
a
n*gga
nose
now
You
can′t
f*ck
that
check
up
you
gotta
save
some
Buy
them
pounds,
break
em
down
with
your
day
ones.
Lil
n*gga
done
took
off
(took
off),
Think
about
all
the
haters
you
shook
off
(shook
off)
Think
about
all
the
n*ggas
they
aint
look
out
Now
look
how
we
balling,
we
in
the
playoffs
Car
with
no
roof
now,
Bentley
coupe
now
Them
h*es
aint
wanna
f*ck,
you
f*cking
em
by
the
two
now
You
made
yourself
a
boss,
so
you
ain't
got
sh*t
to
prove
now
Them
youngins
on
the
front
line,
ready
to
shoot
now
I
been
tweaking
I
been
geeking
off
them
Percocets
Got
pulled
over
by
the
law,
hope
they
don′t
search
this
b*tch
Ain't
got
time
to
lay
up
with
her,
I'm
tryna
work
the
b*tch
Make
her
hit
the
road,
pick
up
them
loads
Lil
n*gga
solid
you
know
he
won′t
bend
or
fold
He
bout
his
paper
he
not
chasing
after
h*es
He
went
to
Cali
found
a
plug
on
them
bows
How
to
get
some
money,
sh*t,
that′s
all
that
n*gga
know
You
getting
money,
yo
trap
do
numbers?
You
bout
to
cop
a
foreign
car
for
the
summer?
Gotta
make
sure
you
got
some
solid
n*ggas
wit
you
Them
h*es
sweating
the
same
ones
who
used
to
diss
you
You
f*cking
h*es
now,
designer
clothes
now
You
got
shooters
ready
to
wipe
a
n*gga
nose
now
You
can't
f*ck
that
check
up
you
gotta
save
some
Buy
them
pounds,
break
em
down
with
your
day
ones.
Aye
buy
them
pounds,
break
em
down
with
your
day
one
Lil
bro
got
hit
at
a
couple
times,
He
still
aint
shake
nothing,
Take
nothing,
I
can
get
em
hit
up
for
like
800,
Boss
man
I
can
send
them
wherever
that
they
want
it
I′m
not
playing
Big
dog,
I
do
what
I
want,
they
do
what
they
can,
I
put
VVS
and
Piguets
on
both
my
hands,
rose
gold
white
and
yellow
I
go
every
color
they
can,
rose
gold
white
and
yellow
Fly
n*gga
Toucan
Sam,
this
sh*t
on
my
wrist
cost
a
ticket
His
b*tch
on
my
d*ck
that's
a
thick
b*tch
All
this
ice
in
my
mouth
I
think
I
got
frost
bit
I
can′t,
I
can't
leave
the
house
without
my
stick
(Yea)
I
can′t
put
these
racks
off
in
my
jeans,
that
sh*t
won't
fit
If
I
don't
buy
that
Birkin
for
my
b*tch
gone
have
a
fit
I
can′t
do
no
verse
if
you
ain′t
talking
more
than
a
brick
I'm
gone
cop
that
verse
and
Ima
pop
my
lil
pop
my
lil
sh*t
You
getting
money,
yo
trap
do
numbers?
You
bout
to
cop
a
foreign
car
for
the
summer?
Gotta
make
sure
you
got
some
solid
n*ggas
wit
you
Them
h*es
sweating
the
same
ones
who
used
to
diss
you
You
f*cking
h*es
now,
designer
clothes
now
You
got
shooters
ready
to
wipe
a
n*gga
nose
now
You
can′t
f*ck
that
check
up
you
gotta
save
some
Buy
them
pounds,
break
em
down
with
your
day
ones.
![Rubberband OG feat. YFN Lucci - YEA YEA](https://pic.Lyrhub.com/img/h/o/8/p/5zkbcxp8oh.jpg)
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