Nasty (feat. Trouble)

Lyrics

Uh, uh, oh-oh (It's Budda Beats)
 Yeah, look
 A young nigga, I never had shit, uh
 I'ma wreck the Porsche, damn near crashed it
 When I'm in that big body, I gotta back in
 Ayy, when I'm in that big body, I gotta back in
 I got a trey poured up, shit nasty, yeah
 I just gotta fuck with her 'cause she nasty, hey
 I got like two million in a Gucci bag
 I'm at the Four Seasons countin' hella cash, hah-uh
 Okay, look, money counter on the dresser
 The way she pop that pussy, I just had to tip her, uh
 The way I work that Glock, they think I'm Brian Niccol
 You would've thought he broke a bone
 Put all that iron in him, yeah, look
 My lil' dawgs killin' for a hobby
 Them my lil' dawgs, them young niggas with dreads up in the lobby
 Them my lil' dawgs, them young niggas don't play about shawty
 Yeah, them my lil' dawgs
 Them young niggas ain't scared to get it poppin', uh, uh
 They got pistols, huh, and we got pistols
 I'ma smoke one of your homeboys, we don't smoke Swishers
 He got kicked out of the whip, I just can't roll with him
 Old rattin' ass nigga, I just can't fuck with him, uh, uh
 Huh, Greedy doin' ten 'cause of your man
 Ju gotta go sit down again
 I'm tired of losin' my niggas to the pen', yeah (Nah, I swear)
 I'm tired of losin' my niggas to the lead (Fuck)
 A young nigga, I never had shit, uh (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
 I'ma wreck the Porsche, damn near crashed it
 When I'm in that big body, I gotta back in (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
 Ayy, when I'm in that big body, I gotta back in (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
 I got a trey poured up, shit nasty, yeah (This shit get nasty)
 I just gotta fuck with her 'cause she nasty, hey (Ooh, this ho nasty)
 I got like two million in a Gucci bag (Yeah)
 I'm at the Four Seasons countin' hella cash, hah-uh
 I just left my plug house, twenty bricks, I'm cashin' out
 Porsche truck got totaled, shootout
 I'm shootin' back, I'm crashin' out
 Big body Benz, on Lord, I'm talkin' 'bout ho, her ass be out
 Every time I see them boys, I'm goin' for it, no backin' out
 My stack be tellin' me to chill like
 "You ain't got music, you rappin' now"
 Told that bitch justice so real, I just go buy they casket now, ayy
 Luwhop, and we got Guwop, ain't talkin' 'bout my bills
 Stackin' fetty, green cash, mula, and ain't talkin' 'bout myself
 Fast forward, B done smoked all of your last boys
 Boolin', passport, fly your bitch out, she ain't even ask for it
 The work god, kickin' shit out fast as landlords
 Your bitch goin', I'm Mike without that badge on Bad Boys
 She got a rich nigga, I told her keep him
 Nothing is guaranteed, so I promise you we might need him
 Creepin' and we gon' sleep him
 Now I'm back up and all my people
 We servin' and workin', fiends hit my ho raw 'cause she got Fiji
 On the plate, then they gon' eat it
 A young nigga, I never had shit, uh
 I'ma wreck the Porsche, damn near crashed it
 When I'm in that big body, I gotta back in
 Ayy, when I'm in that big body, I gotta back in
 I got a trey poured up, shit nasty, yeah
 I just gotta fuck with her 'cause she nasty, hey
 I got like two million in a Gucci bag
 I'm at the Four Seasons countin' hella cash, hah-uh
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
03:10
Key
10
Tempo
162 BPM

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