Latelatekuro - Yeehhh (Prod. Cxdy) Lyrics

Hey
Yeah, yeah-yeah
PUTEMNIGGAZINATRASHCAN yeah
Yeah, ay
Huh hol up, yeah
Turn me, hol up, hol up, yeah
Hol up, turn me up, yeah, hol up, hol up, yeah, yeah

Put dem niggas in a trash can, yeah
No competin, no rap friends, yeah
I be murkin, f*ck a casket, yeah
Nigga really really bout dat, yeah

Put dem niggas in a trash can, yeah
No competin, no rap friends, yeah
I be murkin, f*ck a casket, yeah
Nigga really really bout dat, yeah

I be murkin f*ck a casket yeh (yeah)
I be lurkin for some wild sex yeh (yeaah)
Ain't nobody really bout dat noh no (hm hm)
Am i dreaming issa snapback? oh god (damn)

(Where yall niggas been at ?) (tell me)
Gym and clubbin i be flexin yeh (flex)
What yall niggas needin? (huh!)
Money, weed, and, women, got that, okay
Well done-gone and get yours goddamn, man (damn)
Ay
What's brackin homie tell me? (tell me)
Sellin crack for tommy's (ay)
You gotta make your money (all day)
Now errbody on it (see)
Bitches vultures zonin (yay)
Still get cheese macaroni (rain)
And anybody eyes on it, impossible to con me (nope)
I be juggin, kony (sick)
And makin moves like biggie
Got body like biggie, got cash that's gettin
That's payment for killin, and bleedin (ugh)
Shits sounds like i'm bangin, but really i'm steady just gonna

Put dem niggas in a trash can, yeah
No competin, no rap friends, yeah
I be murkin, f*ck a casket, yeah
Nigga really really bout dat, yeah

Put dem niggas in a trash can, yeah
No competin, no rap friends, yeah
I be murkin, f*ck a casket, yeah
Nigga really really bout dat, yeah

Ay back back, niggas tryna catch that (yanw?)
Faded of the cognac, niggas better watch out (yanw?)
Pussy niggas back back, cause my crew just cashin out
Bitches dig us like the rat pack, kids about to wildn out (damn!)
Oh god (damn)
Why yall hoes tryna kiss me, i'm stay swervin (swerve)
Matter fact tell me
What yo hoe doin uup on thursday
Makin backflips off the sofas
Poppin molly died eyes
She lookin thirsty
Yeah
Yeah
You know yo hoe be
Be lookin thirsty
Prolly cause
The tag on the backpack
Cause the drugs in the nap sack
Damn
Still wonder why yo bitch groove nigga? huh? (hmm)
Zidane with the spin move nigga goddamn (whooh)
Mats hummels with the tackle nigga yeah (yeah yeah)
I be murkin glitches f*ck a drumset yeah

F*ck a drumset, beats sound like back scratches
F*ck a drunk text, bae that's only back stabbing
F*ck a long sex, bitch ain't worth a sweat
F*ck a rhum sec, liver already apoptosised
F*ckin bad breath, baby got breast
Gettin no rest from my wildness
Ain't left nun left, stay til my death
Aim at da head, what's the omen? golden casket?
Guess it's okay, fuk i'm gon say?
Well, yeehhh yeehhh, yeah