Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bad Morning, artist - YoungBoy Never Broke Again.
Date of issue: 04.10.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Bad Morning |
(I need to talk to Mike Laury |
Yeah, you got Mike Laury) |
(Dubba-AA flex) |
(Winning lottery numbers coming up) |
I can’t quit (Quit) at all, at all |
I ain’t hurt (I ain’t hurt) at all, at all |
On my soul at all, at all |
Stay the same as my pain grow, ridin' round with my bros |
Ride 'round with' my bros |
(This is the sound) |
Ridin' in the Maybach, let’s go |
Ten M’s up nigga, let’s go |
He a dread head, mhm, my bro leave him dead in front that store |
On three different drugs tryna take away my pain, but it’s still gon' flow |
Try my hardest to put a smile on top my mans, but he still can’t cope |
On the highway, I just wanna do some' |
Need it my way, bam, bam, shoot some' |
He a headhunter rude bwoy, trust nothin' |
She got a nice round bum, but can’t pay her nails |
Do a hit real sick, it be cold the whole summer |
I can’t figure how she comin', I’ma give her to my mama |
And the minute I’ma cut a nigga, knowin' I’m a slime him |
Everything goin' bad, you can trust him, still time him |
Niggas be rappin', we be shootin' at the bitch |
Sound of the stick goin' «Boom» when it hit |
Sound of the smoke, real loud when it’s lit |
Still let it out with a crowd in our midst |
Black car, matte stick, I’m it |
Don’t pick die, if you try one trick |
Right gang, but she say, «Wrong bitch» |
Young rich nigga, he done took a wrong fix |
Overdose, can’t shake back, no |
-free, get the jack from the sto' |
White trace, that’s a whole lotta snow |
Ridin', with a .30 and a pole |
With a young bitch, she don’t want me, it’s vivid |
But I don’t need her hand when I’m runnin' up bitches |
Real deal business, this real blood business |
Real, dead bodies in the trenches |
Real slime, they was my partner for a minute |
Contract from my brother when them hollows got up in it |
Dodgin' bullets in the car when them shottas sent them in it |
All praise to Allah |
We gon' burn 'em for real, leave 'em dead if he miss |
You can aim when you shot at them, fuck with my bodies |
I’ma floor my engine, narcotics |
Why they cookin' 'em rocks? |
Die protectin' that body |
Through the cover the closet |
I don’t say that ain’t me, but I still want kindness |
I’ma fly out this bitch to whoever come catch |
Police ran in this bitch, don’t say nothin' about it |
I ain’t got nothin' I wanna do better with my life, but take narcotics with my |
life |
Collect these bodies, with your life, send it to the Most High |
Nigga showin' off, got it took when he got it |
Nigga ran off, tell me what you do 'bout it? |
You don’t know off the dome shit, can’t write |
With the Glock when you see the kid, on sight |
Bullets start playin' round with 'tention, got focused |
Got another pack rolled up, he gon' smoke it |
Ten grand, twenty grand, all night scope |
We’re up all day high, we’re up all day slow |
I can’t quit, at all, at all |
I ain’t hurt, at all, at all |
On my soul, at all, at all |
Stay the same as my pain grow, ridin' round with my bros |
Ridin' in the Maybach, let’s go |
Ten M’s up nigga, let’s go |
He a dread head, mhm, my bro leave him dead in front that store |
On three different drugs tryna take away my pain, but it’s still gon' flow |
Try my hardest to put a smile on top my mans, but he still can’t cope |
Heard steady talkin' 'bout, let me shoot him, no |
I can’t teach a nigga shit, I can make it out him |
I ain’t need no tutor, been advanced for the road |
Doped up, two or three tools goin' shows |
Forty on my teeth and two hunnid for my pole |
Three hunnid for my car, extra sneak’s for the longest |
I be runnin' to the money soon as it reach my phone |
I ain’t got nothin' I wanna do better with my life, but take narcotics with my |
life |
Collect these bodies, with your life, send it to the Most High |
Nigga showin' off, got it took when he got it |
Nigga ran off, tell me what you do 'bout it? |
You don’t know off the dome shit, can’t write |
With the Glock when you see the kid, on sight |
I can’t quit, at all, at all |
I ain’t hurt, at all, at all |
On my soul, at all, at all |
Stay the same as my pain grow, ridin' round with my bros |
Ridin' in the Maybach, let’s go |
Ten M’s up nigga, let’s go |
He a dread head, mhm, my bro leave him dead in front that store |
On three different drugs tryna take away my pain, but it’s still gon' flow |
Try my hardest to put a smile on top my mans, but he still can’t cope |