paroles de chanson Yes, You Did - Rob49 feat. Real Boston Richey

Gang
Don't even look over here (thanks, Yakree)
Gang
Shit (shit)

Yeah, I'm so sick of niggas
Yeah, pull up, S550, spit in my ho mouth when I kiss her
Yeah, rich 'round drug dealers, yeah, rich 'round real killers
Yeah, could've been a victim, I ain't say that, yes, you did (bah)
I'm so deep, my duffy and my bag and my Prada
Yeah, $4K for this coat, I'm a G.O.A.T., reppin' that project rap
Dripped up to the floor, bitch, I'm soaked, overflowed
He won't do whatever I do, this nigga my son, that's on folk, nigga

Yeah, niggas wan' see my downfall
When you get some money, number one rule, put your mans on
Bubble for eight hundred, I got it for low, feel like I scammed son
Hundred pounds a day, I got my cake up off of cell phones
Still hustlin' 'til my day come
Dog nigga who known for droppin' whores when I need badder bitches

Starvin' just like Marvin when you niggas was eatin' Sunday dinner
Love a bitch who treat me like a god, never touch my business
Send drugs to the house, you tell me stay every time I come and get 'em
Lord, yeah, paid in full like Ace 'nem, ballin' like I'm Shaq twin
Yeah, trappin', rappin', same time, packin' in my backend
Yeah, steppin' on they neck, I just ran up a check
House arrest, six months, but I bounced back
Just thank the Lord I rap, nigga

Yeah, I'm so sick of niggas
Yeah, pull up, S550, spit in my ho mouth when I kiss her
Yeah, rich 'round drug dealers, yeah, rich 'round real killers
Yeah, could've been a victim, I ain't say that, yes, you did (bah)
I'm so deep, my duffy and my bag and my Prada
Yeah, $4K for this coat, I'm a G.O.A.T., reppin' that project rap
Dripped up to the floor, bitch, I'm soaked, overflowed
He won't do whatever I do, this nigga my son, that's on folk, nigga

Make sure my bitches and my glizzies get makeovers, new BBL
They say you catch a body, you in the chances of goin' to Hell
I'm already flamed up, I don't think I too much care
Under investigation, they say I'm poppin' fraudulent checks at Wells
But them crackers trippin', they know I'm out here trappin' and sellin' bales
Know my phone jumpin', you know I ain't gotta run to every cell

I got my hood jumpin', you know I ain't do this shit all by myself
Is she good at fuckin'? You know I'm buyin' bundles of that hair
I'm blowin' that shit, bitch, I don't care
I'm not talkin' 'bout buyin' some ass, I'm talkin' 'bout lettin' off them shells
I'll fuck, then turn around, then fuck the game, no, it ain't fair
I don't care nothin' 'bout no rap shit, I'm still out here servin' squares

(Shit) yeah, I'm so sick of niggas
Yeah, pull up, S550, spit in my ho mouth when I kiss her
Yeah, rich 'round drug dealers, yeah, rich 'round real killers
Yeah, could've been a victim, I ain't say that, yes, you did (bah)
I'm so deep, my duffy and my bag and my Prada
Yeah, $4K for this coat, I'm a G.O.A.T., reppin' that project rap
Dripped up to the floor, bitch, I'm soaked, overflowed
He won't do whatever I do, this nigga my son, that's on folk, nigga