YN Jay, YSR Gramz - Have-A-Ball lyrics
[YN Jay, YSR Gramz - Have-A-Ball lyrics]
(Yeah, Baby, you did this one)
Damn
I'm finna (Yeah, Baby, you did this one)
I'm finna have a ball
10 bad hoes, I think I want 'em all
I finna hoop, I think I wanna ball
In a nice neighborhood, I think I wanna jog
Bitch wanna suck my dick, don't forget the balls
When I'm done fuckin' you, I won't forget to call
Bitch, I don't want no babies, I can't hit you raw
You got your gun on safety, I got mine on, oh shit
I'm 'bout to do some shit
They ain't see me comin' through, I'm in the newest whip
I just pulled up with a redbone, this my newest bitch
Oh, you never smelled this cologne? Oh, you like that huh?
Boy, you know her pussy through and you wifed that huh?
You the type of nigga get beat up, ain't gon fight back huh?
Nigga slid down throwin' bullets, threw 'em right back huh
You the type that argue on Facebook, you gon type back "Huh"
Ahh shit
Spot a bitch from 'round the corner, this bitch super thick
I just pulled up with Lil D, that's my mud brother
Oh, you don't know YN Damu, that's my blood brother
Oh, you around for the money, you a blood sucker
I just seen bro make 20, he a muhfucker
Oh, they sent you to a store, you a store runner
If you see me up this bitch, you better start runnin'
I can't even bring Loski brim, cause he gon start somethin'
I just fucked for 2 minutes, and she start runnin'
If I scream "[?]", that mean the cops comin'
You got a gun in your hand, but you ain't on shit
Oh, you got a lot of money? You be on hoe shit
Oh, that Glock ain't yours? That's your bro shit
Punch a nigga dead in his face, for bro 'nem
I just talked to the plug, he said you owe him
You out here tellin' people you my cousin, I don't know him (I don't know that nigga)
Yeah, I'm actin' real bad
You got a fake Louis Vuitton, I got a real bag
I just ate this bad bitch, she a real snack
This nigga act like 6ix9ine, he a real rat
Let me see you bend that ass over, cause it's real fat
I'm in Atlanta shootin' dice, with [?]
No you can't ride in the front, bitch get in the back
I ain't ridin' in your car if I can't bring my strap
I ain't gettin' on your song if you ain't speakin' facts
Bitch, YSR Shit
Yeah, bitch
Damn
I'm finna (Yeah, Baby, you did this one)
I'm finna have a ball
10 bad hoes, I think I want 'em all
I finna hoop, I think I wanna ball
In a nice neighborhood, I think I wanna jog
Bitch wanna suck my dick, don't forget the balls
When I'm done fuckin' you, I won't forget to call
Bitch, I don't want no babies, I can't hit you raw
You got your gun on safety, I got mine on, oh shit
I'm 'bout to do some shit
They ain't see me comin' through, I'm in the newest whip
I just pulled up with a redbone, this my newest bitch
Oh, you never smelled this cologne? Oh, you like that huh?
Boy, you know her pussy through and you wifed that huh?
You the type of nigga get beat up, ain't gon fight back huh?
Nigga slid down throwin' bullets, threw 'em right back huh
You the type that argue on Facebook, you gon type back "Huh"
Ahh shit
Spot a bitch from 'round the corner, this bitch super thick
I just pulled up with Lil D, that's my mud brother
Oh, you don't know YN Damu, that's my blood brother
Oh, you around for the money, you a blood sucker
I just seen bro make 20, he a muhfucker
Oh, they sent you to a store, you a store runner
If you see me up this bitch, you better start runnin'
I can't even bring Loski brim, cause he gon start somethin'
I just fucked for 2 minutes, and she start runnin'
If I scream "[?]", that mean the cops comin'
You got a gun in your hand, but you ain't on shit
Oh, you got a lot of money? You be on hoe shit
Oh, that Glock ain't yours? That's your bro shit
Punch a nigga dead in his face, for bro 'nem
I just talked to the plug, he said you owe him
You out here tellin' people you my cousin, I don't know him (I don't know that nigga)
Yeah, I'm actin' real bad
You got a fake Louis Vuitton, I got a real bag
I just ate this bad bitch, she a real snack
This nigga act like 6ix9ine, he a real rat
Let me see you bend that ass over, cause it's real fat
I'm in Atlanta shootin' dice, with [?]
No you can't ride in the front, bitch get in the back
I ain't ridin' in your car if I can't bring my strap
I ain't gettin' on your song if you ain't speakin' facts
Bitch, YSR Shit
Yeah, bitch