Yung Booke - Yo Go текст песни

Текст песни Yo Go - Yung Booke



Jumped up off tha porch & I went datway
Spinnin doin tha whole dash on tha e way
It ain′t no game I'm in tha game tho like EA
No small change these Balmaine cost me 3k
Rollie is on me take a picture
I can′t be fucking them bitches on instagram
I gotta keep it professional
I'm tryna keep my competitor
Poppin these perennial edibles
I tote that stick like a
You niggas get hit wit tha rest of it
All I see is prophets
Soulja boy no rerocking
This water out tha clean faucet
Ain't never seen no drought
Bitch I′m reppin gang gang
I been ballin so hard imma need some roll game
Drippin I′m fresher then soap
Imma controller no remote
This dough on tha flo
Then put tha gang in tha yo
I wear my chains every where that I go
You'll get blew off if you tryin reach for my throat
Hit tha gas then it sped off
Got yo bitch up in my car tryna suck my leg off
I remember runnin from tha red dog
This a dirty dirty game you gotta play it raw
Rob & shoot you
Drippin in Gucci
Salute me & shoot me
They say I′m tha coolest my life is a movie
Lights camera action
Imma fuck her after I'm done pass her to brodie
Yo Go Now
Yo Go Now
Really Really litty & yo so turned down
Yo Go Now Yo Go Now Yo Go Now
Big homie say he down
He told me hold it down
I took them racks like a visa
Woke up tha day finna eat em
Stuff my backwood wit some diesel
I′m lookin for? Tequila
Sippin on syrup by tha litter
Ride wit some racks & just ems
Pill pounds & percs
Water be drippin all over my shirt
Know you can't end it before you get searched
Play wit tha Uno you gonna get murked
I don′t know why that bitch think that she a diva
I want to fuck on that lil bih & eat her
Shot at my her lil brother desert eagle
Left his ass high like a fever
Miss me wit that cappin shit
Like Fuck all this rappin shit
Get momma out this trap shit
My way wit a fat bitch
I've been sippin syrup tryna calm my nerves all bout a bird
Get caught on my Turf
Get you murked put you on a shirt
Big difference I'm really tha shit and you just a turd
Get sentenced imma get em back whoever get em first
Big pimpin 50 racks up in my big designer purse
Diamonds sittin so icey like Gucci mane
Bitch I′m way cooler 600 shots on any block
If you ever play
Sit straight my lil low key you know we neighborhood troup
We active ratchets get tha clapping at yo shotters
Yo Go Now
Yo Go Now
Really Really litty & yo so turned down
Yo Go Now Yo Go Now Yo Go Now
Big homie say he down
He told me hold it down
I took them racks like a visa
Woke up tha day finna eat em
Stuff my backwood wit some diesel
I′m lookin for? Tequila
Sippin on syrup by tha litter
Ride wit some racks & just ems




Yung Booke - Children of the Corn
Альбом Children of the Corn
дата релиза
01-12-2017




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