lirik lagu you broke – yg
[hook: yg]
you broke – shut up
don’t talk to me, get your bread up
and we used to f-ck but i got fed up
we eatin’…
all my, all my fet up
you broke – shut up
don’t talk to me, get your bread up
and we used to f-ck but i got fed up
we eatin’…
all my, all my feta
[verse 1: yg]
you hoe rat that p-ssy throwback
i’m some f-ck
you ain’t gotta be a sighn just to know that
getting to that money, nothin’ before that
b-tch i’ll do you dirty, dirty like a floor mat
yeah i’m tired of hearing’ about what you need b-tch
i’m tired of paying for you weaves b-tch
i’m tired of you f-ckin’ me, tryin’ to get pregnant
knowin’ if you had a baby yo broke -ss couldnt help
couldn’t help it
i be ridin’ through the city banging’ 2 chainz
i ain’t worried ’bout the police, i got two names
keep the strap ’cause sometimes you gotta do things
she give away that p-ssy like loose change
tryna have a n-gg- baby, the the sile never jayjay
this ain’t recess, b-tch you know i don’t play-play
just bought akay just took a vacay
n-gg- you too broke, you need to call triple a, eh?
[hook]
[verse 2: nipsey hussle]
how you f-ck for cash but you not a ho?
and how i’m gon’ respect you if your pockets broke?
on your rap sheet a whole lot of bros
it’s a clinic on western but you out of dough
you’re broke, your p-ssy stink, you borrow clothes
lost the little -ss that you had playin’ with your
nose
i dedicate this to my last ho
swear i got cash and started actin’ like -sshole
catch up, keep up, cutl-ss with the beat up
i be buyin’ pounds, so naw we can’t peace up
rollie with the crown, bet you wanna f-ck the king,
huh?
it’s money over b-tches, never f-ck this thing up
she still fainted when she seen us
i’m a grade a n-gg-, youse a c+
i got a room a got a broom, b-tch, clean up
hit the blade, and play my fee up
[hook]
[verse 3: yg]
you shopping at louis when your baby need wic
you buying buying vibraters whn you know you need d-ck
you sick – you triflin’
i heard in the ‘hood your b-tch cyclin’
n-body wifin’ yours…
young n-gg- got money, no yeah
fast money, fast b-tches takin’ hot baths
and me and relations don’t last
i’m hustlin’, hustlin’, got the bands on my scotty
sandow
i’m hangin’ out the window, bangin’ out the widow
throw it up chunky – wrists all chunky
i heard your p-ssy smell funky
and i ain’t used to what you’re used to
the only thing in your ear is a bluetooth
you n-gg-s ain’t blinged-out, 20 racks i blow that
5-10-15 i let my n-gg- hold that
[hook]
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