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paper! - yung flex lyrics

[chorus]
all i care ’bout is that paper, b*tch
i’m in the cut like a taper, b*tch
real n*gga sh*t, i ain’t with all the faking, b*tch
ugh, i’m on my grind like a fakie smith
bad lil b*tch on the d*ck and she taping it
brand new wood, cop a zip, put an eighth in it
roll it up, spark it, plus you know i’m facing it
i just be cooling, don’t got time for hating, b*tch

[verse]
ugh
blowing that gas and i’m feeling amazing
b*tch i’m bluefacing, his pockets is vacant
i’m on that same sh*t, don’t gotta say sh*t
that n*gga hate me, i don’t even blame him
i’m in the back and i’m high as inflation
i’m with his b*tch and we having relations
that n*gga tough, but i’m using quotations
we not the same, we not even adjacent
ugh, ugh
n*ggas be making me sick like ne*yo
i put like 3*0 inside of the three four
glock put that boy in the sky like iyo
hе fade away, when i shoot its a three though
ugh, i’m sending shots likе tito’s
be what you want, but you ain’t gon’ be me though
to keep it a hundred, just gon’ be a zero
ugh
i up the choppa, he running a four flat
n*ggas be b*tching like go take a prozac
i come around, you ain’t getting your hoe back
f*ck n*ggas stuck in the past like a throwback
n*ggas my sons, and you f*ck n*ggas know that
hope you up quick, cause i shoot like a kodak
f*ck up my wrist when that motherf*cker blow back, ugh
i up the switch and it sound like its glitching
i’m feeling like max, keep a pole like i’m fishing
and if you ain’t the gang, i don’t f*ck with the vision
like motherf*ck the fame, tryna ball like a piston
like run this sh*t back if your ass ain’t been listening
i wet his block like a motherf*cking christening
i’m with his b*tch and she giving it up
if you ain’t shini, ain’t kicking sh*t, ugh
n*ggas be b*tch, i don’t know what to say
that’s okay, i’m only here for the pay
spitting that real, i ain’t come here to play
how the f*ck else imma get to the pape?
v12 money truck, i’m finna race
i never gave a f*ck, pick up the pace
n*ggas can’t be me, start pumping the brakes
b*tch i’m the best, you can’t even debate
ugh, ugh
back in this b*tch off the medical
n*ggas be snitching, these n*ggas be federal
choppa gon’ cut him in half like a decimal
knocking that n*gga straight off of his pedestal
ugh, he want the smoke, then it’s plentiful
n*ggas gon’ make me do something regrettable
i cannot f*ck with these n*ggas in general
[chorus]
all i care ’bout is that paper, b*tch
i’m in the cut like a taper, b*tch
real n*gga sh*t, i ain’t with all the faking, b*tch
ugh, i’m on my grind like a fakie smith
bad lil b*tch on the d*ck and she taping it
brand new wood, cop a zip, put an eighth in it
roll it up, spark it, plus you know i’m facing it
i just be cooling, don’t got time for hating, b*tch

- yung flex lyrics

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