Lyrics That's Why - Young Nudy

That's Why

I got all kinds
All type of sticks and it ain’t no lie
Nigga wanna play, I’ma pull up with fire
Draco, AR-15 with the beam on
Y’all ain’t gon' wanna play, bro, you like stay home (Bro, you like stay home,
yeah)
Yeah, loaded full, loaded paper, loaded baked potato (Yeah)
I got them young niggas ready to blaze ya
Y’all niggas playin', I turn you to a vapor (Vapor)
More and more money, more and more haters
Sticks-R-Us, they know not to play with us
Grown man shit, nigga, you’s a dummy
Smokin' crack rock, nigga, you’s a junky (Junky)
You like to fall off track, you’s a flunky
Back in the traphouse for me, I get money
With this rap shit, nigga, I’m back to my gunnin'
Got my chains on, nigga ain’t taking nothin'
In the booth turned up, nigga, I got money
Tryna have this bitch lit from Monday through Sunday
Loaded, loaded, bank account got paper
Loaded, loaded Glock for my hater
Pop in your house like I’m Freddy Krueger
Young nigga, Glock with the Ruger, ooh
I don’t really like to do the Rugers, ooh
Some of y’all niggas do what they gotta do
And they like to do what they gotta do
Paid 'em in full just to come and shoot
Boy, you know you through, boy, you know you done
And they got the gun, boy, you better run
They don’t wanna hear the gunfire
They don’t wanna see their partner die
They don’t wanna see their mama cry
Pissin' on your grave when you die
Got no remorse, no lie
Get your get-back, yeah, pussy ass nigga
But you can’t, pussy nigga, 'cause you died, yeah (Ahaha)
But you can’t, pussy nigga, 'cause you died, yeah
Yeah, I got my dawgs, man, put shit in the bowl
They ain’t ate in a minute, they’ll shake ya, yeah, yeah
In Beverly, nigga, this money don’t make us, yeah, yeah
Came from the hood, OG’s didn’t make us, yeah
Fuck is you talkin' 'bout, nigga?
(Yeah)
What is they talking 'bout?
Nothin', they bluffin'
Talking 'bout money, but they ain’t gettin' nothin'
I can see it, nigga, you ain’t doin' nothin'
Look at your pockets, man, you ain’t got nothin'
I’m like, «Damn, bruh, that don’t make no sense»
You ain’t got no money, not even fifty cents
You can’t buy no fucking cigarette or shit
Talking 'bout beefin', man, put that to an end
I cannot beef with no J, you not my friend
I’ma chase the money if it ain’t comin' in
Play with more money than I ever did
I had to cut 'em off, I found they wasn’t in
Keep me a money counter 'cause it print
I’m thumbin' through money, thumbin' through this shit
I got these hoes in the trap bent
Thumb in her booty, Perc' kickin' in
Hit her from the back, now I’m going in
Suck me up, bitch had say hello to my friend
Mini, mini, mini MAC-10
And the car black tint
Late night, she suckin', fuckin'
That ain’t nothin'
Thinking 'bout the time I had her with her friend
I just reminisce
Pop in your house like I’m Freddy Krueger
Young nigga, Glock with the Ruger, ooh
I don’t really like to do the Rugers, ooh
Some of y’all niggas do what they gotta do
And they like to do what they gotta do
Paid 'em in full just to come and shoot
Boy, you know you through, boy, you know you done
And they got the gun, boy, you better run
They don’t wanna hear the gunfire
They don’t wanna see their partner die
They don’t wanna see their mama cry
Pissin' on your grave when you die
Got no remorse, no lie
Get your get-back, yeah, pussy ass nigga
But you can’t, pussy nigga, 'cause you died, yeah (Ahaha)
But you can’t, pussy nigga, 'cause you died, yeah