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keep going - yn jay & rmc mike lyrics

[intro: yn jay]
(elijah, not another one)
yop
yop
(ron, give it to ’em)
ahh

[verse 1: yn jay]
pop out with a ski mask but i ain’t goin’ skiing (ahh)
put a switch on the glock, it sound like drums beatin’
i ain’t trippin’ ’bout no change, i let the bums keep it
n*ggas die in fall time, you know it’s gun season
i’m finna sleep in n*ggas bushes like it’s huntin’ season
dog don’t never wash his t**th, that’s why his gums bleedin’
unc’ head full of greys, look like morgan freeman
i hope bro don’t go to h*ll, he just stole a demon
ball in the winter time, it’s a cold season
it’s some new ingredients but it’s the old season, ayy
it’s the old seasonin’
i love watchin’ football, i hate when the sеason end
i know a n*gga that made it out the hood, no onе believed in him
i know a n*gga that made his first shot, they tried to leave the gym
i know that’s your blood brother, would you bleed for him?
i know you got a growhouse, but is the weed growin’?
i don’t when we gon’ drop, just keep pourin’
young jeezy, snowman, it just keep snowin’
gun pockin’ out my hip, this b*tch just keep showin’
and you ain’t made it far enough, you gotta keep goin’
[verse 2: rio da yung og]
you gotta keep goin’, man
yeah
ghetto boy sh*t, n*gga
i’ma boss, i don’t need no one to speak for me
just had your favorite redbone and went to asleep on her
i ain’t even hit, i was off three 30’s and i drunk a six
wasn’t no cheeks clappin’, i was in there gettin’ head, n*gga, some happen
i was chillin’ with my kids if i wasn’t rappin’
they hit him in his head with a sig, it turned into ashes, fried him
if i buy a brick, ho, pied it
i’ll drink any prometh’ with codeine but don’t pai me
you don’t got no glass red, don’t lie to me
’cause how you get a bubble wrap in a casket behind c?
who is all this dogsh*t, is it mine?
i’m talkin’ ’bout the record label, n*gga, not me
dogsh*t on me, where the party at?
i got ten racks for the party pack
you will never not hear me say i hardly rap
you ain’t makin’ money off rap, that ain’t gotta cap

[verse 3: rmc mike]
hit him up close with the strap, i ain’t tryna scr*p
b*tch, i gotta a h*llcat, i ain’t drivin’ scat
spendin’ dogsh*t when i land, i ain’t gotta pack
bro, you wanna hit this newport? i ain’t got a black
nutted in her six months ago, now she kinda fat
b*tch, i’m goin’ in this sh*t raw, take the condoms back
hmm, yeah, i’m talkin’ unprotected
n*gga used to be the plug, now he unconnected
shot a fifty out this glock, it took a couple seconds
he tried to flex with a dub, it was unimpressive
retired my old glock and bought a baby sig
she like, “mike, you f*ck my sister?”, sh*t, i maybe did
b*tch, my left cost me a mercedes benz
we got the whole hood knowin’ we gon’ make it big
we ain’t sippin’ on no pai, this a eight of tris
countin’ up a hundred bands while i take a sh*t
makin’ millions off of rap, but’ll still take a hit
i get a check every time they and go play this sh*t
she say her p*ssy tight as h*ll, i told her, “make it fit”
drop a four in a can pop and then take a sip
you gotta k!ll me for this cuban, you ain’t takin’ sh*t
i had to put my mix on it just to make a zip
if that sh*t ain’t makin’ pape’, it ain’t makin’ sense
i threw my bag on board, it’s finna take a trip
.50 cal big as h*ll, it’ll take a hip
i’ll wipe a n*gga nose like a handkerchief
hmm, shoutout my lil’ brother, he be spankin’ sh*t
i know he said he had the bag but he ain’t makin’ sh*t
told a b*tch i’m taken, me and drank got a relationship
i l!ck the bottle like some p*ssy when i’m tastin’ it
i can never be outside with a basic b*tch
if she ain’t had good credit, i wouldn’t date the b*tch
she showed me hoes ain’t sh*t, i had to thank the b*tch
bust a nut and dip, sh*t, i got some more drank to sip

- yn jay rmc mike lyrics

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