b#tch Yeah Lyrics – YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Singer: YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Title: b#tch Yeah
(Timmy Da HitMan)
Huh, what?
What? What? What? What? What?
What? What?
What’s crackin’? What? (What?)
Or whatever I’m brackin’ on, b#tch
Yeah, that my blood, I got all Fives ’round this b#tch
These hoes wan’ f#ck, these n#gg#s can’t f#ck with none of us in this b#tch
I’m, a hit at your clique with the stick (Baow)
Make me turn you lil’ boys to a lick (A lick)
I got stripper big booty b#tches blowin’ up on my phone
Too much swag, stylist cop more clothes inside of my home
Put yo’ b#tch in VLone
b#tch, play what you please along as you don’t QC on
b#tch, I make you bleed, ho
b#tch, I know I bleed, ho
Band red 5, big B, ho (Hell, yeah)
b#tch, get on your knees, ho (Yeah, yeah)
Come and suck it with no teeth, ho (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’m rich, I’m rich, I’m rich, b#tch, I’m rich as sh#t
Come get it, got to whip it
Know I got to whip it, n#gg#, come and get your b#tch
Molly, Molly, Holly, Wolly, had a 30, whip out his body
I don’t play that sh#t, I keep that chopper
I might buy me a Maserati
Shoot that drum at that b#tch, it’s [?]
‘Fore get to my sh#t, you know I’ma pop it
b#tch, give me yo’ soul, give me yo’ body
Swag out the b#tch, pop out for mama
I get high in this b#tch (I’m gone)
I get so high in this b#tch (I’m gone)
I might make her [?] a n#gg#
b#tch, come touch your toes
Finna make a R&B b#tch come here off her phone (Yeah)
If we f#ck ’bout how good she can sing, b#tch, get that phone (Yeah)
b#tch, get that phone (Oh)
b#tch, get that phone (Yeah, yeah)
b#tch, get that phone, ho
b#tch, get that phone (Yeah, yeah)
My brothers are kickin’ a door (Yeah, yeah)
I don’t like that n#gg#, a ho (Yeah, yeah)
I don’t like that lil’ boy’s b#tch
I do not like for my ho to hear none these songs
Like when I break her back to my songs
Lookin’ at these b#tch make racks at home
Tell me what type if time you on
Buy me clothes, they fit me right
I don’t know who f#ckin’ side you on
I know that this wrong and they real right
I ain’t put money on yo’ head, that’s right
Bang red, that blood, my thug, my Five
[?] slime get this party hyped
She rock soon as I get outside
Rudolph beam on his nose and eyes
[?] which one gon’ eat me right?
Geekin’, I’m geekin’, I’m higher than high (Uh-huh)
Geekin’, I’m geekin’, I’m higher than high (b#tch)
I get higher with her when I’m shoppin’ online (b#tch, yeah)
I can get all my words to this, everytime (b#tch, yeah)
And this b#tch [?] without you on my side (b#tch, yeah)
You on my side, b#tch, don’t play with my money you know you my guy (b#tch, yeah)
I got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (b#tch, yeah)
I got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (b#tch, yeah)
I got more money than you lil’ boys, y’all some b#tches (b#tch, yeah)
I can’t even drive and got more cars, your sh#t is leased or rented (b#tch, yeah)
Know we make sh#t hype about [?] on back got switches (b#tch, yeah)
I don’t give no f#ck ’bout who rockstar, I don’t want you b#tches (b#tch, yeah)
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Lyrics YoungBoy Never Broke Again – b#tch Yeah
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