| Rich Homie, baby!
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| Yeah, aye man
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| You can bet the house on me dog
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| I told all my niggas, if they had a thousand dollars
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| We gon' make it back
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| I’m in love with types of bitches, you regular type of nigga
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| Be tryna get in my business, but couldn’t run in my business
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| These niggas they in they feelings, can’t hide em because we see it
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| These niggas claiming they real till they true color revealed
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| Used to do nothing but steal, till I did that lil bid
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| At every game I would win, they would think that shit was rigged
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| That pussy pink like a pig and that ass is like a hog
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| Find out that bitch stealing, tie her up then put her out
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| Find out she ovulating, hit her raw then pull it out
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| Why she claiming that my baby when I fucking pulled it out?
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| I told that bitch, «Swallow these babies and don’t fucking spit 'em out»
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| (Why? Why? Why?) ‘Cause they might grow up to be something real special
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| You can’t never trust nobody, never trust nobody
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| Cold-hearted motherfucker never love nobody, never love nobody
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| Remember staying with my mama then I turnt up the skreet
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| No heat, remember being cold so I bought me a mink
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| At fifteen jumped off the porch, landed straight in the skreet
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| Still stop at Gresham Citgo just to get me some sweets
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| Shout out Choo, Nootie Bone, shout out Paridise
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| Shout out the 6, ‘cause that’s my zone, shout out to PDE
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| Hey, hey, hey, hey
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| Hey yeah, hey yeah, hey, hey
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| Hey, hey, hey, hey
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| Hey yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Hey yeah, yeah, yeah
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| I keep my pistol on ready, ‘cause I don’t live for the moment
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| Shorty claiming she want me, but I pass to the homies
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| She suck around on my meat, like a piece of bologna
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| She asking, «Quan, do you got me?»
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| I tell her, «Get some insurance»
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| Okay now dish my detergent, I wipe my hands when they dirty
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| Because all day, all day, I’ve been running through this money
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| These bitches be flirtin', I fucked that hoe for no purpose
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| I swear that all day, all day, I’ve been running through these condoms
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| Tell me why, maybe you know
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| They underestimated me, it hurt they heart, when I broke
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| Came back in the motherfuckin' trenches
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| Tight shirt on with some Balmain britches
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| Them lame niggas over there boy I hit all they bitches
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| I hit all they bitches, to the point, that I fucked them, and don’t call them
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| bitches
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| I ain’t saying what I’m doing may be right
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| But when I do it, boy, I give the lil kids, God damn
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| Jump out the hot box, police on me, I’m dodgin' the car
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| I see all my cars in the lot, be careful they watchin'
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| Nah, be careful they got it, nah, be careful I got jailed
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| The code word, we call it, «Christmas» when we talking bail
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| I made a oath and told myself I wouldn’t go back to jail
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| Walked up in the courthouse with a Gucci sweater on, a nigga got hot as Hell
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| But I ain’t give a damn, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah
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| And I don’t give a damn if my partner get locked up, accept all the calls
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| Where I’m from, we ain’t seeing shit, we ain’t heard of shit, and we don’t talk
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| And every nigga take a loss, that’s how you come back, that make you a boss
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| Thought I was gone, psyche, got 'em
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| Her natural hair long, what I like about her
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| This ain’t even all of my shit, this ain’t even all of my whips
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| These ain’t even all of my bitches, y’all ain’t even all of my niggas
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| Hey, hey, hey, hey
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| Hey yeah, hey yeah, hey, hey
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| Hey, hey, hey, hey
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| Hey yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Hey yeah, yeah, yeah |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Yeahhh, artist - Rich Homie Quan. Album song ABTA: Still Going In, Vol. 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп