Tables

Man you boys can't even sit with us, stupid
You dumb ass niggas you really thought -
You really thought you could sit with us
Stupid nigga look at my shoes
These is Louboutin's, nigga

Young Rich Squad
Man you boys can’t even sit with us
Said he fly as me, boy
You must be smokin' angel dust
New block blower, pull up on you
Finna paint you up i get legal money
I don't fuck with all that shady stuff
Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week
Pullin' out the burner
Now he runnin' like an athlete
I don't wanna squabble
Get the burner to your ass cheeks
Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass
B never let a nigga act rowdy
That’s a bitch move
Niggas really stalking on my gram
Like my bitch do
I won’t never sell another gram
I make rich moves
If I go broke I'ma get it out my bitch shoes
Walk to imperial and back, lil' baby
You ain’t even wild, bro, stop acting crazy

Fuck your pussy, give me dome first
Brodie at your crib with that led
Call that home work find out when you sleep
Then we run up with that chrome burst
16 bars in this chop, like a long verse
Been on the block
Finna ball like it’s cancer
Said that I’m broke
Shake my head get your bands up
She wanna fuck, LOL, that’s my answer
If bro hit the lick
Then we both got that hammer

Young Rich Squad man you boys
Can’t even sit with us
Said he fly as me, boy
You must be smokin' angel dust
New block blower, pull up on you
Finna paint you up i get legal money
I don't fuck with all that shady stuff
Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week
Pullin out the burner
Now he runnin' like an athlete
I don't wanna squabble
Get the burner on your ass cheeks
Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass
B never let a nigga act rowdy
That’s a bitch move
Niggas really stalking on my gram
Like my bitch do
I won’t never sell another gram
I make rich moves
If I go broke I'ma get it out my bitch shoes
Walk to imperial and back, lil' baby
You ain’t even wild, bro, stop acting crazy

I remember I was broke, I ain’t have none
Now my fit is all designer in this Aston
Martin in this bitch
I'ma kick her out like Pam son
All these niggas want my sauce, nigga
Y’all like plankton
Broke where bitch? This ice on my neck
He ain’t got no bullets in that gun
Why he flex
Feel like I’m Nike cause I got these checks
She give head with no hands
Bitch look like a T-Rex, i'm gone

Young Rich Squad
Man you boys can’t even sit with us
Said he fly as me, boy
You must be smokin' angel dust
New block blower, pull up on you
Finna paint you up i get legal money
I don't fuck with all that shady stuff
Hit 80 bands off the rap like last week
Pullin' out the burner
Now he runnin' like an athlete
Ion wanna squabble
Get the burner on your ass cheeks
Stupid ass nigga thought he finna get a pass
B

Dummy
You a stupid ass nigga, I don't wanna hear it
Over, over, over, over, over, over, over