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lirik lagu wake up – ysr gramz

[intro: ysr gramz]
jay go brazy
ysr sh*t (ay this that one right here)

[verse 1: ysr gramz]
er*er*everytime i wake up, i make a thousand
i keep my n*gga with me, nick cannon, he be wylin
give a n*gga free shots if a n*gga ever foul me
put a hole in that n*gga, left him looking like an olive
me and kasher in this b*tch, we brought two choppas
you wanna hear me on your song, i need two thousand
a n*gga play with us, we gone give that n*gga two options
give his ass a headshot, biggie smalls, who shot you

[verse 2: kasher quon]
i just poured up some hi*tech with ysr
and i’m in the studio crispy off ysl
i heard it cost five hundred dollars, he can’t pay his bail
this a moncler, i heard you still wear pelle pelle
i’m talking to my vendor right now on telegram
how the f*ck is your wood fat, and you rolled a gram
my cousin never paid me, so i’m finna roll my fam
i’m in the strip club throwing ones, eating lamb

[verse 3: krispylife kidd]
(krispylife)
gramz, quon kid, this what the people wanted
i don’t f*ck with these rap n*gga’s, ain’t no sugar coating
drop [?] and young goat, yeah i been rolling
i do not f*ck these n*gga’s b*tches, okay, i’m trolling
four fifty for a [?] jean fit, five bands all blues
i know your broke ass ain’t seen this
i ain’t really bragging cause, this ain’t no dog sh*t
i’m pretty sure that’s what your broke ass would call this
[verse 4: ysr gramz]
i met some bad freaky b*tches, i’m finna call kidd
you ain’t got no pape, you be smelling like some dog sh*t
brodie clutch with that stick, he like paul pierce
bro, you ain’t probably made a band, all year

[verse 5: kasher quon]
just caught one of my opps at the store getting a tall beer
i’m sick dog came budweiser
i’m finna spark up a backwood with a bic lighter
my b*tch caught me cheating and she bust all four tires

[verse 6: ysr gramz]
driveway called, they just hit four meijer’s
i don’t trust n*gga’s, n*gga’s singing like the church choir
you could give me twelve hundred, i’m your ghost writer
i’ll drop fifty on your scat, now it’s a lowrider

[verse 7: kasher quon]
told my n*gga kidd “turn me up in the headphones”
i just shot a n*gga, now his name on a tombstone
yo b*tch running around the crib naked in a thong
i had to break up with my last b*tch, we ain’t get along

[verse 8: krispylife kidd]
i can get head in the car, you can’t get fifty out that b*tch
took a shot of henny, now i’m on fully in this b*tch
snuck my glock in the club, i’m the bully in this b*tch
chop sparked girl like habachi, now you sushi in this b*tch
i’m in a rush, i gotta go, this a fast break
left her on her knee’s, hoe was sick with the sad face
tied dog up, used his cheek as an ashtray
i keep*i keep f*cking up, brodie, this my last take
i’ll smoke you for stealing sauce, somebody tag drake
slide through serato, b*tch, it’d be a sad day
[outro: ysr gramz]
haha, and do the kawaii laugh

- ysr gramz

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