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lirik lagu get it litty – ebk young joc

get it litty lyrics
[verse]
it get litty, it’s a party every time my n*ggas show up (and that’s for sho’)
boy, don’t die in this b*tch, watch what you throw up (watch what you throw up)
sick my purple rains got a stain from this soc
mix it up a little, couple drops, and it’s yola (yeah)
think he f*ckin’ with me, cuddy off some coca*cola (off that sh*t)
bullets flyin’ when we bouncin’ out this ‘yota (pow, pow, pow, pow)
i ain’t a p, she ran a fee, i guess i’m chosen (ayy, run it in)
i 2*0 in these streets, boy, i’m golden
ayy, pshh, real dope fiends (for sho’)
certified street n*gga, shoot and drop the whole thing (fa, fa, fa, fa)
i ain’t picking up today, let my phone ring (ayy, let it ring)
f*ck a half, blood, you know i copped the whole thing (ayy)
send her to the store and beat her ass, she copped thе wrong thing (b*tch)
she said that she leaving, told hеr, “bye”, let the hoe leave (bye)
this a vlone shirt, plain, but a long*sleeve
finna take a trip, do something different down in long beach (hold on)
and i ain’t talkin’ bout no vacation
if you gon’ do the move, then do it now, blood, i hate waitin’
hotboii, sittin’ in this room got him fake bakin’ (hot! hot!)
juke move on a fufu, get to shake, shakin’ (ah, ah)
my d*ck in her belly, she tryna run, no she can’t take it (ayy)
them n*ggas die on that side, they just can’t face it
bro got a ‘cat, i got a ‘hawk, but we ain’t racin’ (skrrt)
n*gga, i don’t f*ckin’ cap
i just sh*t talk on these beats, i don’t mumble rap (ayy)
b*tch sparked up a seed in her ‘wood, what the f*ck is that? (ayy, what the f*ck)
blood doin’ a hunnid, almost lost him, but he brung it back (skrrt)
f*ck a stock clip, cuddy, my glock got a drum attached
my doobie in the ashtray, so don’t touch it, i ain’t done with that (ayy, don’t touch it)
i’m finna roll it up, and smoke a copper (copper)
bippin’ whips, got no cuts, blood i do it proper (proper)
don’t get smoked tryna fight, i ain’t no boxer i ain’t no boxer (i ain’t no boxer)
she doin’ splits in this b*tch, i’m finna knock her
come see how we kick it, sh*t, i ain’t talkin’ bout soccer
this b*tch talk the most sh*t, but she can’t show a dollar (can’t show a dollar)
i’m finna roast your dusty ass, i got the hollas
it’s nothin’ but gangsters and p’s in here poppin collars (poppin’ collars)
i’m a beast n*gga, street n*gga with some knowledge (with some knowledge)
but, sh*t, i ain’t go to college (nah)
i start playin’ with guns, go for nun, we was robbin’
this ain’t nef the pharoah, but my n*ggas big tymin’ (big tymin’)
i’m tryna cop a rollie with the big diamonds (big diamonds)
if i say i’m comin’, n*gga, whole clique slidin’ (whole clique slidin’)
tryna ride the wave, boy, you n*ggas d*ck ridin’ (d*ck ridin’)
i don’t say slatt, b*tch, my n*ggas big slimin’
(leek, this muhf*cka so sleezy)

- ebk young joc

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