Bad Morning Lyrics – NBA YoungBoy
Singer: NBA YoungBoy
Title: Bad Morning
(I need to talk to Mike Laury
Yeah, you got Mike Laury)
(Dubba-AA flex)
(Winning lottery numbers coming up)
I can’t quit (Quit) at all, at all
I ain’t hurt (I ain’t hurt) at all, at all
On my soul at all, at all
Stay the same as my pain grow, ridin’ round with my bros
Ride ’round wit’ my bros
(This is the sound)
Ridin’ in the Maybach, let’s go
Ten M’s up n#gg#, let’s go
He a dread head, mhm, my bro leave him dead in front that store
On three different drugs tryna take away my pain, but it’s still gon’ flow
Try my hardest to put a smile on top my mans, but he still can’t cope
On the highway, out the window do some’
Need it my way, bam, bam, shoot some’
He a head hunter rude bwoy, trust nothin’
She got a nice round bum, but can’t pay her nails
Do a hit real sick, it be cold the whole summer
I can’t figure how she comin’, I’ma give her to my mama
And the minute I’ma cut a n#gg#, knowin’ I’m a slime him
Everything goin’ bad, you can trust him, still time him
n#gg#s be rappin’, we be shootin’ at the b#tch
Sound of the stick goin’ “Boom” when it hit
Sound of the smoke, real loud when it’s lit
Still let it out with a crowd in our midst
Black car, matte stick, I’m it
Don’t pick die, if you try one trick
Right gang, but she say, “Wrong b#tch”
Young rich n#gg#, he done took a wrong fix
Overdose, can’t shake back, no
[?]-free, get the jack from the sto’
White trace, that’s a whole lotta snow
Ridin’ ’round with Kirk, with a .30 and a pole
With a young b#tch, she don’t want me, it’s vivid
But I don’t need her hand when I’m runnin’ up Benji’s
Real deal business, this real blood business
Real [?], dead bodies in the trenches
Real slime, they was my partner for a minute
Contract from my brother when them hollows got up in it
Dodgin’ bullets in the car when them shottas sent them in it
All praise to Allah [?]
We gon’ burn ’em for real, leave ’em dead if he miss
You can aim when you shot at them, f#ck with my bodies
I’ma floor my engine, take lots of narcotics
Why they cookin’ ’em rocks? Die protectin’ that body
Through the [?] cover the closet
I don’t say that ain’t me, but I still want kindness
I’ma fly out this b#tch to whoever come catch
Police ran in this b#tch, don’t say nothin’ about it
I ain’t got nothin’ I wanna do better with my life, but take narcotics with my life
Collect these bodies, with your life, send it to the Most High
n#gg# showin’ off, got it took when he got it
n#gg# ran off, tell me what you do ’bout it?
You don’t know off the dome sh#t, can’t write
With the Glock when you see the kid, on sight
Bullets start playin’ round with ‘tention, got focused
Got another pack rolled up, he gon’ smoke it
Ten grand, twenty grand, all night scope
We’re up all day high, we’re up all day slow
I can’t quit, at all, at all
I ain’t hurt, at all, at all
On my soul, at all, at all
Stay the same as my pain grow, ridin’ round with my bros
Ridin’ in the Maybach, let’s go
Ten M’s up n#gg#, let’s go
He a dread head, mhm, my bro leave him dead in front that store
On three different drugs tryna take away my pain, but it’s still gon’ flow
Try my hardest to put a smile on top my mans, but he still can’t cope
Heard him steady talkin’ ’bout Top, let me shoot him, no
I can’t teach a n#gg# sh#t, I can make it out him
I ain’t need no tutor, been advanced for the road
Doped up, two or three tools goin’ shows
Forty on my teeth and two hunnid for my pole
Three hunnid for my car, extra sneak’s for the longest
I be runnin’ to the money soon as it reach my phone
I ain’t got nothin’ I wanna do better with my life, but take narcotics with my life
Collect these bodies, with your life, send it to the Most High
n#gg# showin’ off, got it took when he got it
n#gg# ran off, tell me what you do ’bout it?
You don’t know off the dome sh#t, can’t write
With the Glock when you see the kid, on sight
I can’t quit, at all, at all
I ain’t hurt, at all, at all
On my soul, at all, at all
Stay the same as my pain grow, ridin’ round with my bros
Ridin’ in the Maybach, let’s go
Ten M’s up n#gg#, let’s go
He a dread head, mhm, my bro leave him dead in front that store
On three different drugs tryna take away my pain, but it’s still gon’ flow
Try my hardest to put a smile on top my mans, but he still can’t cope
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Lyrics NBA YoungBoy – Bad Morning
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