Lyrics Teenage Numbers - Yo Gotti

Teenage Numbers

Plug talk money, money talk plug
Teenage numbers when we speak about drugs
15, 16, 17 fine
18, 19, 20 too high
My plug talk money, my money talk plug
Teenage numbers when we speak about drugs
15, 16, 17 fine
18, 19, 20 too high
Cocaine dreams, sky is the limit
You can make a lot of money or you can do a large sentence
My plug don’t speak English, he can barely say a sentence
All he know is numbers, charge me nothing close to twenty
Sixteen flat, front me one time
Call it statutory rape when he charging Kobe Bryant
I’m trying to profit eight, like that nigga in his prime
I’m shooting to L.A. to get my work e’erytime
All I gotta say, I’m cool like Dre
I’m boss like rick from M.I.A
Yo Gotti!
Nigga say had keys for the fifteen, only thing gotta cop more than fifteen
Teflon Don
Lemme holla at em
I fell in love with Fendi as an adolescent
Now it’s Aston Martin money in my momma mattress
Copped me a Caprice, i shatted on them Daytons
Gotti got the cuddy but his stuntin' so contagious
Don’t speak about my plug, my plug barely speak
???
I keep putting teenagers on the street
We ballin' in the club, popping bottles as we speak
Multiple M’s in my account, my money on the streets
I’m pouring money in it, 'til we got in Tennessee
I count it when I want it cos my niggas never steal from me, (loyal)
Keys in the ignition, keys in the kitchen
Large revenue, residue seen on the dishes
Profit mandatory, maintaining the lifestyle
My pedicure large, two attorneys for the trial
She sell a lot of ass, I got a lot of cash
Four Louis carry-ons, hit the helicopter pad
A thousand and eight grams
Divided by four
Two-hundred fifty-two
Multiply it by four
That’s 16 racks, I’m panning at the max
Seventeen-five cause I gotta get some tax
Teenage white girl, but if I say she black
You know we talkin' code, that mean that bitch ain’t comin' back
My plug don’t speak English, write down everything you say
But I don’t give a fuck cos I only want the yay
I’m cocaine crazy, think I’m goin' insane
15, 16, 17, keep running through my brain
I front a couple bricks, however you want to play it
When I’m with that tab, you know you walking dead
Dead man walking, I can see obituary
We enjoy the money, but the dope game scary
Bitches turn into enemies, friends turn into snitches
The cars draw attention, and the money fuck with bitches