Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Slime Belief, artist - YoungBoy Never Broke Again. Album song Realer, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.12.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Never Broke Again
Song language: English
Slime Belief |
If you want it, you got it, you know how I’m rockin' |
They never could stop it, it’s stuffed in my pocket |
I got up for the score and they never could block it |
After the show, I count up in a Masi' |
Tears fall from the lies, despite |
Hunnid bands through the time of the night |
When you left, I ain’t wanna live life |
Now I’m happy on the in and outside |
Can you make it better? |
Trap out like Griselda |
Post up with Barettas, hustlin' through the night, yeah |
Spin the block, finna stretch 'em |
Wake the hood up when we wet 'em |
And it’s all gon' be alright, yeah |
When that wrong choice take your life, yeah |
Gucci pressure be on top of that Nike print |
From them rich niggas kickin' yo' back door |
And they should give a Rollie to niggas who want it |
Who don’t know a thing but trap, though |
Blue faces, I put that over nat hoes |
The shit that we sellin' will make you relapse, though |
Thinkin' I’m slippin', run up and get clapped, ho |
I put that North on the map, ho (Gang) |
Turn up on a bitch when I’m gone off a Perc |
That ho gon' fuck on a fast beat |
Ben behind me, do the dash, keepin' up in a Vert |
You get jacked out yo' shit, you can’t text me |
Pussy nigga throwin' shots, ain’t at me |
Strapped up, tell that nigga get at me |
Tough love for a bitch, won’t trap me |
Pay for the body then I give them the MAC free |
Got a pound in the car, I’ma smoke on that |
Left the state for a show and I’m comin' back |
If he say he want smoke, ain’t no fallin' back |
Want a bitch for the play, I’ma blow the strap |
He ain’t usin' his head, put it in his lap |
He ain’t 'bout it, could tell that he only rap |
I just put 40 bands inside the trap |
Every manifestation, I’m callin' rare (Gang) |
Now can you make it better? |
Trap out like Griselda |
Post up with Barettas, hustlin' through the night, yeah |
Tell Jugg bust a right, yeah |
Hop out, gun flames through the night, yeah |
You know how I’m rockin', you know that I’m with it |
You loyal to me, I’ll make sure that you get it |
If you want it, you got it, you know how I’m rockin' |
They never could stop it, it’s stuffed in my pocket |
I go up for the score and they never could block it |
After the show, I count up in a Masi' |
Tears fall from the lies, despite |
Hunnid bands through the time of the night |
When you left, I ain’t wanna live life |
Now I’m happy on the in and outside |
Pick it up, throw it out, watch it come back |
Got a whole hunnid racks in a Dior bag |
Count up that money, I run up the sack |
Boardin' on the jet with a illegal strap |
The shit that they talk, I could tell you is cap |
Up off the X and I only took half |
Stay energized, I fall back from the tabs |
Put a half in my way, I’ma pay off the staff |
I feel like it ain’t no bitch I can’t have |
Saint Laurent boot with the fur like a bear |
Balenciaga, that Gucci, and Prada |
I got on all three and I bought several pair |
When it’s up, what we slidin' in, duckin' from 12 |
Time wise, clockwise, I never fail (No) |
Ain’t no slackin', we hustlin', we on this for real |
If we don’t get it, we take it, you know what it is |
Can you make it better? |
Trap out like Griselda |
Post up with Barettas, hustlin' through the night, yeah |
Can you make it better? |
Trap out like Griselda |
Post up with Barettas, hustlin' through the night, yeah |
Now, can you make it better? |
Trap out like Griselda |
Post up with Barettas, hustlin' through the night, yeah |
Spin the block, finna stretch 'em |
Wake the hood up when we wet 'em |
And it’s all gon' be alright, yeah |
When that wrong choice take your life, yeah |
Gucci pressure be on top of that Nike print (Shh) |
From them rich niggas kickin' yo' back door |
And they should give a Rollie to niggas who want it |
Who don’t know a thing but trap, though |
Blue faces, I put that over nat hoes |
The shit that we sellin' will make you relapse, though |
Thinkin' I’m slippin', run up and get clapped, ho |
I put that North on the map, ho (Gang) |