| A young nigga, I never had shit, uh
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| I’ma wreck the Porsche, damn near crashed it
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| When I’m in that big body, I gotta back in
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| Ayy, when I’m in that big body, I gotta back in
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| I got a trey poured up, shit nasty, yeah
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| I just gotta fuck with her 'cause she nasty, hey
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| I got like two million in a Gucci bag
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| I’m at the Four Seasons countin' hella cash, hah-uh
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| Okay, look, money counter on the dresser
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| The way she pop that pussy, I just had to tip her, uh
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| The way I work that Glock, they think I’m Brian Niccol
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| You would’ve thought he broke a bone, put all that iron in him, yeah, look
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| My lil' dawgs killin' for a hobby
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| Them my lil' dawgs, them young niggas with dreads up in the lobby
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| Them my lil' dawgs, them young niggas don’t play about shawty
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| Yeah, them my lil' dawgs, them young niggas ain’t scared to get it poppin', uh,
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| uh
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| They got pistols, huh, and we got pistols
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| I’ma smoke one of your homeboys, we don’t smoke Swishers
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| He got kicked out of the whip, I just can’t roll with him
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| Old rattin' ass nigga, I just can’t fuck with him, uh, uh
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| Huh, Greedy doin' ten 'cause of your man
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| Ju gotta go sit down again
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| I’m tired of losin' my niggas to the pen', yeah (Nah, I swear)
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| I’m tired of losin' my niggas to the lead (Fuck)
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| A young nigga, I never had shit, uh (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| I’ma wreck the Porsche, damn near crashed it
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| When I’m in that big body, I gotta back in (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| Ayy, when I’m in that big body, I gotta back in (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| I got a trey poured up, shit nasty, yeah (This shit get nasty)
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| I just gotta fuck with her 'cause she nasty, hey (Ooh, this ho nasty)
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| I got like two million in a Gucci bag (Yeah)
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| I’m at the Four Seasons countin' hella cash, hah-uh
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| I just left my plug house, twenty bricks, I’m cashin' out
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| Porsche truck got totaled, shootout, I’m shootin' back, I’m crashin' out
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| Big body Benz, on Lord, I’m talkin' 'bout ho, her ass be out
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| Every time I see them boys, I’m goin' for it, no backin' out
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| My stack be tellin' me to chill like, «You ain’t got music, you rappin' now»
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| Told that bitch justice so real, I just go buy they casket now, ayy
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| Luwhop, and we got Guwop, ain’t talkin' 'bout my bills
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| Stackin' fetty, green cash, mula, and ain’t talkin' 'bout myself
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| Fast forward, B done smoked all of your last boys
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| Boolin', passport, fly your bitch out, she ain’t even ask for it
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| The work god, kickin' shit out fast as landlords
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| Your bitch goin', I’m Mike without that badge on Bad Boys
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| She got a rich nigga, I told her keep him
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| Nothing is guaranteed, so I promise you we might need him
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| Creepin' and we gon' sleep him
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| Now I’m back up and all my people
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| We servin' and workin', fiends hit my ho raw 'cause she got Fiji
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| On the plate, then they gon' eat it
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| A young nigga, I never had shit, uh
|
| I’ma wreck the Porsche, damn near crashed it
|
| When I’m in that big body, I gotta back in
|
| Ayy, when I’m in that big body, I gotta back in
|
| I got a trey poured up, shit nasty, yeah
|
| I just gotta fuck with her 'cause she nasty, hey
|
| I got like two million in a Gucci bag
|
| I’m at the Four Seasons countin' hella cash, hah-uh |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Nasty , by - YFN Lucci. Song from the album HIStory, Lost Pages, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп