Young Boy Talk
Look nigga I'm the boss, the mo' fuckin' animal.
One war, one phone call is how I handle you. (whew)
On the grind, you pussy niggas hate,
Bitch I'm out in different states bought the ticket gettin' cake.
Fill my lungs with the best weed, pockets with them dolla signs,
Run with them niggas holdin' glocks like its Columbine. (Pop, Pop, Pop)
I'ma star in detroit so I gotta shine,
Far as Pittsburgh I'm the voice so I gotta Rhyme. (Ya)
Rhymin' all the time, ever since the first day.
Now I'm gettin' cake like ay day became my birthday.
Somethin like an earthquake, the way the shit drop,
I be at the tip top, postin' with a big knot.
You ain't know me hoe, you sit at home and just watch,
Less than hatas, stone cold spectatas.
Written by: CAMERON THOMAZ, CAMERON JIBRIL THOMAZ, EDWARD MURRAY
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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