No hook Lyrics – Real Money, Yung drilla YG
Singer: Real Money, Yung drilla YG
Title: No hook
Verse 1: real money
Play my cards cause i’m dangerous but i know that n#gg#s been hating
A n#gg# can’t hang, he lost his life. i left him dead on the pavement
Yall don’t really bang, i stressin, sitting in that station
I seen n#gg#s change, i was f#cked up broke on all those cases
Atm i made that sh#t, ball 4 tb still claim that sh#t
We dangerous, can’t f#ck with rats, that’s goofy sh#t
Them gunshots turn him lunatic. right on camera that movie sh#t
I be out of town with that compact stick
Got it out the mud, stay by the zip
Dope out of town, and i put on a b#tch
Like just now, put some on my wrist
I got dog food, i been cheffing that sh#t
My mac retarded, it don’t even make sense
Left him in the past, now that n#gg# past tеnse
Played the trap, stackеd up big bands
He froze up, his homie ran
His skin all burned, i ain’t talking bout tans
Gotta go hard, most the opps got bands
We ten toes, we step on mans
She take heed, cause i talk bout bands
Cut her off, no second chance
His n#gg# got smoked like second hand
Fly a n#gg#, he ain’t superman
Fly n#gg#, i ain’t tryna land
I married {??} sh#t on her man
I used to pick up, poke all types of stamps
Change lanes its a change of plans
That ? man, that ? man, trap, slide, trap, slide
I been f#cking with trey 5. live ho we can f#ck her the same time
Blood on my hands, make me a ??
I was just trapping, lurking with n dog
Thats two 40s, you ain’t gon get up
Most of these rappers ain’t never pressed nun
If he press done he still never stretched nun
He was talking that sh#t, ima get him
Gotta fill him up, i gotta hit him. gotta fill him up i gotta hit him
Baby girl i really do this, i’m the one that these n#gg#s speak about
Got my foot in the door, you won’t beleive the way they tryna keep me out
Remember back in the day, i was juggin out keke house
Had to keep it on my waist, it was always n#gg#s tryna take me out
H ad to play my cards i had to play, you won;t beleive the way they try play me out
Fresh out, tryna get paid. had to bleach at 40 house
Tapped telephones, broken telephones, its better if you just close your mouth (x2)
Another day, another dollar, rip murda
n#gg# talk my name, end up murdered
f#ck her good, she ain’t know she a squirter
I like live hoes, ion like virgins
When i was in jail, them b#tches curved
Now i’m fresh they they still kinda curve
My bag up, now the feelings are earned
She run me every thing, thats how it works
Givenchy paris, but i pull up german
Smokin dead n#gg#s piull up swervin
You want me to cuff you b#tch, better earn it
You want me to cuff you b#tch, better earn it
Verse 2: yung drilla yg
Want me to cuff you b#tch better earn it
Im in the trap, hangin, i’m earning
Bucktees yeah i’m serving
401, yeah i’m swerving
My b#tch yeah she persian
But the ?? are german
Catch a opp lackin, i burn him
Make a left on that street, yeah we turnin
Glock with a 50, came with a switchie im in the ts and im bout to get whitney
They want smoke tell them n#gg#s come get me
I’m in the trap and i’m cooking up o’s
Amiri my pants and my t-shirt vlone
Came a long way from scraping the bowl
Used to scrape in the trap ? get home
Took a whole lotta riches to get to this dough
If we get the drop, then we taking your soul
Lil bro got my back and i know he won’t fold
Jay slip don’t slip, keep one on the dome
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Lyrics Real Money, Yung drilla YG – No hook
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