Tip off – Yn Jay lyrics

Lyrics Tip off – Yn Jay

Tip off lyrics
Bitch got me mad, got me askin’ questions
Freak bitch give me throat like I had a necklace
Bitch got good coochie,
came back for seconds
Drunk a whole pint of lean,
got me crashin’ reckless
You got took out the game early, got you mad at ..
Losin’ all your bros to gun violence got you mad at weapons
Santa Claus fake, got me mad at presents, alright
Pull up shootin’ like Klay Thompson,
got me mad at Stephen
Bitch, you play like Westbrook,
why you mad at Kevin?
And you left the team when we
And you left the team when we need you, got me mad at Kevin
How you miss your flight?
\You forgot to check in
Beatin’ out the hotel,
I’ma trap out Westin
Mixin’ cornbread with cranberry, it taste just like dressing
Nigga, you don’t put no work in, I don’t see you sweatin’
Gettin’ ready for the game, you can see me stretchin’

[Verse 2: Louie Ray]
Gettin’ ready for the game, you can see me stretchin’
(Alright)
While I cook ‘caine, you can see me textin’
Okay (Come on, Louie)
I’m the only rapper stay around
I’m the only rapper still sellin’ rocks, make it look cool
If they ever get me, somebody
If they ever get me, somebody told, because I’m too smooth
Upgraded a lot since the
Upgraded a lot since the Coochie song went coochie-coo
GIA books for the diamonds, watch came new
Hood wasn’t expectin’ shit for Christmas, we had came through
Could’ve been border sideline, gettin’ ‘caine through
I’m obviously playin’ with some cake, look what it came to
Even though we shine every day, it’ll rain too
Lil’ bro ain’t change up at all, I’m the same too

[Verse 3: Mozzy]
My lil’ trife bitch actin’ like a diva
Soon as the pack land, I’m actin’ like I don’t need her
Fuck with me, you know we got it for cheaper
I ain’t tryna sell this M16 ’cause she a keeper
Demonic demeanor, my niggas heathens
Gangland, body for body throughout the season
Ayy, we be hexa hella extra on the geekin’
Hexa hella extra on the tweakin’
Uru’ off the lot and on my daughter, we ain’t lease it
Bitch, I’m from the block,
and on my daughter, it ain’t Peaches
Walkin’ through this thing Dolce’d down, lookin’
Nigga walkin’ through this thing Dolce’d down,
lookin’ decent
All my bitches hoein’ and they into
All my bitches hoein’ and they into petty thievin’
Ayy, I’ll hop up out your bushes with this kayda for no
reason
Tell him put his pockets on the floor,
I need to see them
And that’s on Jesusss(tip off lyrics)

Tip off – Yn Jay lyrics
Tip off - Yn Jay
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