Lyrics Dead Beat - Yung Simmie

Dead Beat

Man these nigga’s faker than silicon titties
And I expose the fake too much realness in me
I pour up the Henny, I smoke til I’m dizzy
Stuffin the Philly, your girl on my dick while I’m doing my thizzy
Like I was Drizzy, nothing was the same but my name is Simmie
Your girl give me brain while I’m speedin the Hemi
But nigga’s don’t hear me til I get it trippin' now you hit with the Semi
I’m puttin' in a clip and I’m a rip til it’s empty
I’m pointing at your head and you can’t run cause you stranded
You fucking with a savage and my rug will do damage
I give you the package, I give you the work
I’m an OG smoker I don’t fuck with the purp
I embarrass these nigga’s now they call me the jerk
These joke ass nigga’s ain’t putting in work
Meanwhile I go to work like my name on my shirt
Cause you know I gotta get it cause I came from the dirt
Mamma said bless them I’m a take them to church
Now I’m schooling these nigga’s better tuck in your shirt
Now my main bitch keep a shank in the purse
Cause you won’t catch me slipping she gon' cut you first
I’m always strapped it was under my shirt
Move and get merked now your face on the shirt
Simmie be the nigga leave beats in the hearse
It’s a lyrical race and I just came in first
I let my money talk I can never converse
To a lame ass nigga who can never convert
To a real ass nigga that you hear on this verse
I give it to you live you just heard that shit first
I’m a give your bitch some water and she keep with the thirst
I’m a make your bitch my bitch and keep my work in her purse
Stunt on my haters I ball like the Lakers
Dunking on haters I’m tall as the rim if I stand on my paper
I came to eat but I’m serving these nigga’s like I am the waiter
Call Tony Hawk cause I’m grinding I’m grinding like I am a skater
Ducking the cops I’m a speed in my foreign like I am a racer
If it’s beef then I eat you up later
We can’t speak if it ain’t about paper
Cause all of my nigga’s want it
All of my nigga’s on it
All of my nigga’s ready
They like where the fuck my opponent
They comin and now you running
Bandcamp drummers drumming
Headcount hunters hunting
Grindtime countin hundreds
Flex time hella stunting
Loudpack smell like onions
Marked up hella mugging
Gold teeth hella thugging
In the cut rolling up something
Black shades on I ain’t worried about nothing
Smoking OG you ain’t got what I’m puffing
That straight from the plug and I told him to stuff it no seeds when I cop it
Gotta stay lowkey cause them haters is watching
But you nigga’s don’t get it so I’m changing the topic
I’m on my own plane smoking blunts in the cockpit
My hitters pop shit you duck and drop shit
Eyes on me on my 2Pac shit
Feelin' like Hitman on my two Glock shit
I’m trying to keep cool like too hot shit
So I’m chillin in the pool with like 2 hot chicks
I’ve been in the game I’m the rap Mike Vick
Flow too sick got haters looking sick
Nigga’s falling off they ain’t sticking to the script
I ain’t falling off I’m a keep it on my hip
King of the South but my name ain’t tip
Got your bitch in my ride and we going for a trip
If you look me in my eyes you gon' see I never trip
I roll up a blunt puff piff, blessed with the gift to spit lyrical clips
My mind flips I load up and spit mind clips
Now I forgot how I got here but I ain’t worried about that
Hold this dead beat I’ll be back