| One, two, three, four, five-trey-five
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| Ses Fac players make the party more live
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| Thang— My thang
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| I keep my mind on the G’s, Blanco (Ki-ki-ki, ki)
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| Without a doubt I get that work in the drought
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| You know it’s blood in, blood out
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| This ain’t no joke, if you run up, you get smoked
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| Or catch a blade and get poked
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| The streets got no hope, if you scared, pray to the Pope (Ah)
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| Family fed by the dope
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| If you ain’t lived it, you won’t understand me
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| Banana boat with them packs in Miami (Ayy, five-trey-five)
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| I get 'em and go, cartel ties on the low
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| DEA knocked on my door then deported my pop
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| I wonder who gave 'em the drop
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| When I find out, he get popped (Boom, boom)
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| My 'yotes gon' slide, when they do, you won’t survive
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| Like Popeyes, we leavin' 'em fried (Grrah)
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| Don’t play with my bread, if you ain’t heard what I said
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| Then we go off with his head, oh yeah-yeah
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| Snuck through the back with the yeah-yeah
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| You know we got packs of the yeah-yeah
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| Big tits, but was better as a yeah-yeah
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| You more like «No», I’m like «Yeah, yeah»
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| My 'yote got locked for the yeah-yeah
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| Bail him out, I got stacks of the yeah-yeah
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| New foreign, I’ma pull up in that, yeah, yeah
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| Catch me at the top, oh yeah, yeah
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| Blueface, baby (Yeah, yeah), yeah, aight
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| Gotta keep a chopstick in my chop (Yeah, yeah)
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| I just copped a house bigger than the cops in the suburbs
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| I’m the only nigga on my block (Yeah, yeah)
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| Never leave the house without that yeah-yeah
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| Forty knockin' off Gucci headbands (Ooh)
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| It’s not regular, baby, these is baguette-'guettes
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| Million dollar views and some Moët get her more wet, uh (Ayy, five-trey-five)
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| Catch me at the top gettin' top (Ooh)
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| She know I ain’t shit, but she still gon' bop (Yeah, yeah)
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| Pull up, drippin' in the drop (Ooh)
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| Reach for my chain and you niggas gettin' popped (Yeah, yeah)
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| Snuck through the back with the yeah-yeah
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| You know we got packs of the yeah-yeah
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| Big tits, but was better as a yeah-yeah
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| You more like «No», I’m like «Yeah, yeah»
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| My 'yote got locked for the yeah-yeah
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| Bail him out, I got stacks of the yeah-yeah
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| New foreign, I’ma pull up in that, yeah, yeah
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| Catch me at the top, oh yeah, yeah
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| I’m strapped in this bitch, peep how I walk like I’m Mitch
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| I already drank me a fifth (Ooh)
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| I hop in the whip, my 'yote extended the clip (Brr)
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| I promise my shooters don’t miss
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| Don’t talk to the feds, got blood on my Nike Cortez (Huh)
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| From kickin' and stompin' on heads (Boom)
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| The lady look guap', I ain’t waste my time on no thot
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| Can’t blame her for shootin' her shot
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| Like «Yeah, yeah"(Ooh, ayy, five-trey-five)
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| Shawty in the bathroom doin' yeah-yeah
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| You want the drama, then the homie got the yeah-yeah
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| In the back you know I got a lot of yeah-yeah
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| I know you claim you got the same, homie, yeah, yeah (Yeah, yeah)
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| You like «Mr. |
| Me Too», part two
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| Whatever I say I have, you say you got, too
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| Like, homie yeah, yeah, so get the fuck from 'round me
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| My 'yotes in this bitch, please don’t get them rowdy, yeah
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| Snuck through the back with the yeah-yeah
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| You know we got packs of the yeah-yeah
|
| Big tits, but was better as a yeah-yeah
|
| You more like «No», I’m like «Yeah, yeah»
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| My 'yote got locked for the yeah-yeah
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| Bail him out, I got stacks of the yeah-yeah
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| New foreign, I’ma pull up in that, yeah, yeah
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| Catch me at the top, oh yeah, yeah |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Yea Yea , by - blueface. Song from the album Famous Cryp (Reloaded), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп