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lirik lagu gettin’ fishy – luh tyler

[intro: luh tyler]
yeah, n*gga
ayy, n*gga, yeah
ayy, n*gga, rrr
(vince, pull up to the stu’, man)

[verse 1: luh tyler]
runnin’ them racks up, perfect timing
jump on the beat, get paid by rhyming
n*gga, they creep, watch how they sliming
lil’ goofy*ass n*gga went broke on diamonds
n*gga, when i step, my bros behind me
bro sip that drank, he turn to a zombie
just stack your paper, boy, just keep grindin’
we gon’ run the racks up, go see johnny
we gon’ run the racks up, n*gga, just sit back, stack, young n*gga gon’ get to the bag
brodie wake up, bust down in the trap, n*gga, ain’t no nap, gotta get off them bags
i be runnin’ laps on a n*gga while you in the house on the couch, n*gga, get off your ass
young n*gga jumped in the booth, no pen, no pad, n*ggas know i’m finna gas
young n*gga chasin’ them blues like nipsey
yeah, pop out, b*tch, i’m sticky
bro make n*ggas run just like they ricky (frrt)
bro in the cut with that switchy
this b*tch got ass on her just like nicki
lil’ b*tch give top, tell the ho, “don’t kiss me”
dump a bag on a cuban, don’t want no richy
these n*ggas be creep, man, sh*t gettin’ fishy (n*gga, yeah)
[verse 2: scy jimm]
ayy, freestyled this sh*t off the head
play with the gang, you dead
ayy, run up, send shots at your head
know you f*ck n*ggas heard what i said
i’m countin’ pink and blue money, but somehow still seein’ red
mmm, that boy went broke on a chain, ‘fore i go broke, i’m goin’ fed, n*gga
ayy, beat the the pot
these n*ggas flat, i keep a knot
keep that fire, these n*ggas plot
f*ck n*gga play, we lettin’ off shots
mmm, i can’t trust no thot
ice my wrist, they say i’m hot
ayy, cheese, we get a lot
they know i’m him, he mad he not

[verse 3: wizz havin]
ayy, i’m supposed to be in the stu’, but i’m in here beatin’ the pot
yeah, talkin’ cheese, we get a lot
stackin’ it, i let it rot (n*gga)
n*gga be workin’ with cops (f*ck)
these hoes be f*ckin’ the opps (d*mn)
you broke and workin’ the clock
you don’t even know how to serve no rocks, n*gga
every day i wake up, n*gga, i’m beatin’ the block down (for sure)
country boy comin’ from georgia, he finna score like five pounds
n*gga play up in this b*tch, i up this fire, hit five rounds
free my n*gga true, he finna jump, he in that countdown
[verse 4: luh tyler]
take your b*tch to pound town, we headed to the top, can’t hit the ground
these n*ggas be broke, they dumb, they clowns
my n*ggas step out, drip water, don’t drown
bro jump in the trap, he gettin’ off pounds
you ain’t tryna get a bag, get your ass from ’round
when you hear that, “frrt,” tell a b*tch get down
lil’ b*tch, i’m the king, don’t need no crown
n*gga, yeah, ayy, get that money, look out for my brother, b*tch
n*ggas, they know what it is
go get that bag, stand on that biz
these n*ggas cap, they work at lids
i got your lil’ b*tch doin’ tricks
i’m chasin’ that bag, don’t chase no b*tch
let’s get in that mode, b*tch, i’m finna glitch

- luh tyler

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