Re-Up Gang - Dey Know Yayo lyrics

Pusha Ton or you can call me Ziploc
Yellow with the blue made green
When the coke drop
Fifteen years old, cooking raw rock
Momma getting mad cause I was
Fucking up her gold pots
Drug dealer, been that nigga half my life
Mongoose bicycle, I was stuffing junkie pipes
Graduated, now I get it for the asking price
He no speak-e ingles if your
Fucking cash is right dey know yayo, Pedro
Louis, Lili, mi a-migos, oh!
You niggas talking but you
Ain't never seen them
Imagine being first named basis
With the kingpins you're middle manning
I'm touching the hands of the growers
From Texas to Tijuana motherfuckas know us
Dryer sheets line the trunks
To disguise the odor your price is low but I
Bet my numbers shorty lower

Liva nigga, heat a man
Nicknamed the teething man
Like Ishmael with fish scale
Got it off that Peter Pan
Rob Peter, pay Paul, plates off, trace love
O's I pitch like a friendly game of baseball
Trade off cars with them tops off, blaze off
Grown man paper playa
Never turn that chase off
Young nigga sold dope, sold soap, sold hope
Bottled in a capsule nigga
Got it from my old folk
Ten Crack Commandments see
Listen to the old GOAT
Louis this, Gucci that
Labels hold them logos
Learn from the old pros, prison is no go
New, low pro, choppin' up at Soho
BBC play clothes, jeans on, things old
Five, pay at one time
Retro with the lace hold
Twenty-four's sittin' high
Chrome is what them brakes hold
Re-Up Gang run it
It ain't over 'til we say so

Dey know yayo
Re-Up Gang, you know we whip, whip, whippin'

Just what you thought he would say
Fuck a shark
There's a killer whale in the water
Disturbing the shit out of order
If you swim then you slaughtered
And I say "ooo", I see food
Fools in this pool of mine
I'm dropping this hot shit too
Quickly, let me slow up, who am I?
Fat Daddy Dough Stacks, Philly's mayor
A big thank you to all my haters
For fueling the fire, my burning desire
It fires, what keeps my wheels keep spinning
I'm ripping through tire spares
Got to keep that, shit is real bruh
Where I'm from is the home of cop killers
Two-one-five, six-one-O
Two-six-seven, one-thousand
Four hundred and ninety-two
You eight bucks short
Fifteen, that gets him three
I let you owe me nina
You burn me for that bread
I act like I never seen ya
Can't speak for my niggas
They felonize misdemeanors
Forever how to die when they see ya
It's real

Now look how I got it, some cars and a crib
I done signed on that dotted
Re-Up is a partnership
The four of us and we coming, the apocalypse
Hands down, we the best, I'm a narcissist
Me and my bitch, we out and ball Harbor
She spending my money
I'm hot and I'm bothered
I hop in the targa, peel out, ocean drive
Nice breeze at the tide, sippin' on Coladas
Dope boy fly shit of which I am a pride of
Where we all get chips and invade Estradas
Party on South Beach, and Madonnas
We ain't worried bout nothing, Hakuna Matata
Pay your lawyer well, reassure yourself
Like black gold
This re-up things an oil well
Trick on yo bitch
I'm sure she would enjoy Chanel
Or that R350, that's sure to overwhelm