Rubberband OG & YFN Lucci Lyrics – Yea Yea Lyrics

YEA YEA

You getting money, yo trap do numbers?
You bout to cop a foreign car for the summer?
Gotta make sure you got some solid niggas wit you
Them hoes sweating the same ones who used to diss you
You fucking hoes now, designer clothes now
You got shooters ready to wipe a nigga nose now
You can’t fuck that check up you gotta save some
Buy them pounds, break em down with your day ones

Lil nigga done took off (took off)
Think about all the haters you shook off (shook off)
Think about all the niggas they ain’t look out
Now look how we balling, we in the playoffs
Car with no roof now, Bentley coupe now
Them hoes ain’t wanna fuck, you fucking em by the two now
You made yourself a boss, so you ain’t got shit to prove now
Them youngins on the front line, ready to shoot now
I been tweaking I been geeking off them Percocets
Got pulled over by the law, hope they don’t search this bitch
Ain’t got time to lay up with her, I’m tryna work the bitch
Make her hit the road, pick up them loads
Lil nigga solid you know he won’t bend or fold
He bout his paper he not chasing after hoes
He went to Cali found a plug on them bows
How to get some money, shit, that’s all that nigga know

You getting money, yo trap do numbers?
You bout to cop a foreign car for the summer?
Gotta make sure you got some solid niggas wit you
Them hoes sweating the same ones who used to diss you
You fucking hoes now, designer clothes now
You got shooters ready to wipe a nigga nose now
You can’t fuck that check up you gotta save some
Buy them pounds, break em down with your day ones

Aye buy them pounds, break em down with your day one
Lil bro got hit at a couple times, He still ain’t shake nothing
Take nothing, I can get em hit up for like 800, Boss man
I can send them wherever that they want it I’m not playing
Big dog, I do what I want, they do what they can
I put VVS and Piguets on both my hands, rose gold white and yellow
I go every color they can, rose gold white and yellow
Fly nigga Toucan Sam, this shit on my wrist cost a ticket
His bitch on my dick that’s a thick bitch
All this ice in my mouth I think I got frost bit
I can’t, I can’t leave the house without my stick (Yea)
I can’t put these racks off in my jeans, that shit won’t fit
If I don’t buy that Birkin for my bitch gone have a fit
I can’t do no verse if you ain’t talking more than a brick
I’m gone cop that verse and I’ma pop my lil pop my lil shit

You getting money, yo trap do numbers?
You bout to cop a foreign car for the summer?
Gotta make sure you got some solid niggas wit you
Them hoes sweating the same ones who used to diss you
You fucking hoes now, designer clothes now
You got shooters ready to wipe a nigga nose now
You can’t fuck that check up you gotta save some
Buy them pounds, break em down with your day ones

YEA YEA Lyrics