Hatër Lyrics – Yeat
Singer: Yeat
Title: Hatër
(Yeah) I came with the blick, I just brought the fire (Bah)
I can’t f#ck with none of these lames, they all f#ckin’ lie (What?)
b#tch, you know this get insane, you could f#ckin’ die (Yeah, yeah)
I just pulled up in a Bentley, it got frog eyes (Yeah, woo, yeah)
I’m a fire guy, walked inside the building with some grease, I’m serving Five Guys
You ain’t got no racks, ain’t got no bags, you can’t even f#ck with us, ah
You ain’t got your swag, ain’t got no bags, you can’t even f#ck with us, ah
They some haters, they ain’t f#ckin’ with the mob, ah
b#tch, you broke, that wasn’t mе, it’s not my job, nah
All my money do a jump and do a job (Luh jump), ah
We gon’ pull up with the blick, yеah, we gon stretch him (Bah-bah-bah)
All my pockets overloaded, it’s overwhelming, ah
How you know ’bout all this shit? Man, you a f#ckin’ spy (What?)
We got mob ties, baby got a felon
f#ckin’ on your thot, she suckin’ dick, she bring the mail in (Go)
b#tch, I get the head, I get her melon
Ridin’ ’round the city like a demon, like a villain
b#tch, I take these percocets all day, I ain’t got no feeling
Ridin’ in a double-R Tonka, baby, stars in the ceiling
Ooh, yeah, hey, walkin’ in the building, I’ma gon’ pull it up
We been up all day, I’m off adderall (Okay)
I just pulled up in a Lamb’, no I’m not your friend (f#ck ’em)
f#ckin’ on your thot, f#ckin’ on your friend (f#ck ’em)
I can’t f#ck with nobody that’s not my best friend (Not my friend)
I just bought a brand new chain, a brand new necklace, yeah
Ridin’ in a Bentley, ridin’ in a turn
I can’t f#ckin’ with nobody, I’m standin’ firm
I just took a percocet, I took a crank, I’m insane
(Yeah) I came with the blick, I just brought the fire (Bah)
I can’t f#ck with none of these lames, they all f#ckin’ lie (What?)
b#tch, you know this get insane, you could f#ckin’ die (Yeah, yeah)
I just pulled up in a Bentley, it got frog eyes (Yeah, woo, yeah)
I’m a fire guy, walked inside the building with some grease, I’m serving Five Guys
You ain’t got no racks, ain’t got no bags, you can’t even f#ck with us, ah
You ain’t got your swag, ain’t got no bags, you can’t even f#ck with us, ah
They some haters, they ain’t f#ckin’ with the mob, ah
b#tch, you broke, that wasn’t me, it’s not my job, nah
All my money do a jump and do a job (Luh jump), ah
We gon’ pull up with the blick, yeah, we gon stretch him (Bah-bah-bah)
All my pockets overloaded, it’s overwhelming, ah
How you know ’bout all this shit? Man, you a f#ckin’ spy (What?)
We got mob ties, baby got a felon
f#ckin’ on your thot, she suckin’ dick, she bring the mail in (Go)
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Lyrics Yeat – Hatër
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