Lyrics You Ain't Good - Vado

You Ain't Good

The chain glisten, paint drippin but you ain’t good
Nuts bustin out your socksbut you ain’t good
Ballin like a motherfucker but you ain’t good
Cause them niggas want they money back
You getting money, shit funny, cause that ain’t you
On the block like you hungry, but that ain’t you
Keep the Glock by the tummy boy that ain’t you
You need to stop, you start runnin when we came through
Ride dippin, paint drippin, nigga switching lanes
Whole lot of bank on him
Talking all that jaz and them youngings at your ass
Shells from the chopper with your name on it
Put your money on the wood, bet your last brick
Hot like wind, you got burnt by your last bitch
James Bond beemer’s cruising through the city slums
Get your money youngin nigga, that’s the rule of thug
Coke boy, streets certified
I’m the driver at the wheel, I control the ride
Put the work on the strip, I control they high
Rollin with a dirty strap in a stolen ride
This that go and catch a lick and break your niggas off
This that pull up on the strip and break them niggas off
Chinx drugs, fuck with me now
I think it’s time I holler at them niggas really loud
Aha, I feel like I’m boxed in, blocked in
Got me on the corner like boxin
Who hot then?
I don’t even care about your top 10
I’m locked in, boots tellin y’all how to block bin
It’s poppin, booth, 3 quarter minks for water links
Thought of chinx said come through like what you wanna drink
Winter time, we on the corner with sodom heat
Call your freaks at the staircase we play the hallway deep
Sun stacking, nun slackin
Rather go hard than home he done nappin
Pull up with your broad and pose like what’s happenin
We could get it in boatloads, my sign captain
Call the gang up, my gang up
Hublots on every wrist we big banged up
Polo edition the signatures and the face butt
Straight cuts, brighten the bezel so get your hate up
Up top nigga that be down bottom
Never did nothing nobody but them boys shot him
Swerve up town, gonna check my nigga vado
With your main bitch with me sippin out the bottle
2 bad models walkin out Ricardo’s
Fatigue pants rock, army stand socks
Learned a lot from old heads like my man pops
Then played the field with big dogs, sand locks