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u or me - yfg fatso lyrics

[intro]
(okay, 9ine)

[chorus]
beat up the p*ssy, she play backdoor, ‘fore i swear, i’ma k!ll this b*tch
uh, was broke, on the floor, i got tired of that cold, thought i shouldn’t have to live like this
once i got me a lil’ pape’ off the hats, we was tippin’, i still ain’t changed
i bought some bullets to better my aim, his brains on the floor, only right that i spill this sh*t
okay, now watch, we gon’ get him, broad day, i’ma drop me this n*gga
a bad b*tch, usin’ her throat, she was goin’ the most, baby had to use more than liquor
uh, a chop and a shoestring, ridin’ up main sh*t, tryna put opps in that blender
dog sh*t, high on a jet, 80k in a duffle, get there and link up security

[verse]
uh, they moves, thеy be frontin’, in all of reality, thesе n*ggas be scared of me
my older cousin was already deep in the streets, that bd sh*t was kind of inherited
i know i’m the best, n*gga never could f*ck with me, bro, you should see they comparisons
whole lot of straps, they got bodies that go way back in the ditch, need to hurry and bury him
i see a lil’ goofy, he tryna play tough, d*ck*ridin’, this sh*t is hilarious
nice with the wheel, they ain’t get up on us, turn the lights on, watch how lil’ go start tearin’ it
we know you a b*tch that’ll pout, our hoes keep inside of they purses and carry ’em
n*ggas be internet tough, once a n*gga get touched, it be rough for his n*ggas to carry him
i don’t like b*tches, i don’t like n*ggas, i really just don’t like nothin’
bad b*tch on the yacht, tryna run through the shots, i’ma pour it, she holdin’ her tongue out
got one baby girl, the world for her, but i still think i need me a son
too many cars on the street, i ain’t goin’ there, sweep, reaper, sweep, everybody got guns out
i bring all the ‘bows and hoes out, too many thots in my bnb, throwed out
remember the threats, he was in it, he rolled now
fans know the fake, real score, n*ggas blowed out
i know when i feel it, my finger be itchin’, this b*tch actin’ fishy, i roll out
chasin’ clout off a miss, yeah, we really do misses, i catch him, i’m leavin’ this skull out
yeah, how you wanna argue ’bout heads? he ain’t got bodies
go ask lil dee ’cause he watched me, i turned this k!ller sh*t into my hobby
this n*gga high, who been givin’ that lil’ boy dope? why the f*ck do he think he gon’ rob me?
reach for the ap, it’s on the right wrist, left hand, nightstick, he a free body
uh, uh, whenever we out, you see n*ggas be dyin’, it’s nothin’ ’cause they move sloppy
his k!ller alive, he ain’t even die yet, that’s ’cause he fightin’ a robbery
my brothers who know the amount of my bag, they constantly be tellin’ me pop it
uh, i do this sh*t low*key, that’s ’cause they on me, i’m still fresh as f*ck if they watchin’
[chorus]
beat up the p*ssy, she play backdoor, ‘fore i swear, i’ma k!ll this b*tch
uh, was broke, on the floor, i got tired of that cold, thought i shouldn’t have to live like this
once i got me a lil’ pape’ off the hats, we was tippin’, i still ain’t changed
i bought some bullets to better my aim, his brains on the floor, only right that i spill this sh*t
okay, now watch, we gon’ get him, broad day, i’ma drop me this n*gga
a bad b*tch, usin’ her throat, she was goin’ the most, baby had to use more than liquor
uh, a chop and a shoestring, ridin’ up main sh*t, tryna put opps in that blender
dog sh*t, high on a jet, 80k in a duffle, get there and link up security

- yfg fatso lyrics

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