lirik lagu young dolph – no sense
[intro: young dolph]
yeah, yeah (supah mario)
(that boy cassius) yeah, yeah
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
hey (hey, that boy cassius)
that stiff dawg, sh~t, n~gga, uh
[verse 1: young dolph]
skinny~ass n~gga in some big balenciagas
my girl was mad at him so i took the b~tch shoppin’
drankin’ champagne, spend the racks all in prada
everybody know that he a big sh~t popper
smokin’ ice cream, rollin’ on some peach cobbler
hitters on the payroll and a couple doctors
why the f~ck you think i pour up all of this wockhardt?
hit the alarm on the ‘rari and it go (brrt, brrt)
park the ‘rari, jump in the challenger (skrrt, skrrt)
feds watchin’ me so i scramble ’em (shakе ’em up)
had your b~tch at the room, but i had to put out
she too freaky, nah, i couldn’t handle her (d~mn)
my young n~ggas walk around with chandeliers (d~mn)
yeah, chandelier the sh~t khaled talkin’ ’bout (d~mn)
dolph hit the club, then the b~tches comin’ out (d~mn)
i heard the opps in the club, n~gga, point ’em out (b~tch)
n~gga, stop all that hidin’ and runnin’ ’round (rrah)
i make your broke~ass brother gun you down (rrah)
d~mn, you too thick, girl, turn around (rrah)
lemme smack it one time and see how it sound
millionaire but i make my boy lay you down
they don’t give a f~ck, they don’t play around
somebody text me, so i look down
my b~tch waitin’ on me in a gabbana gown (gabbana gown)
[verse 2: key glock]
yeah, b~tch, i still wear gucci
i’m chillin’ with a groupie, beatin’ up her coochie (beat it up)
uh, glizock, my life a movie (glizock)
guess who shoot it? your b~tch, i do’s it (i do)
uh, ballin’ real hard, no recruiting, yuh (on god)
paper route winnin’, never losin’, uh (gang)
before i drop the top, i been ruthless, yuh
give it to ’em raw like sushi, uh (raw)
yuh (yuh), yuh, still goin’ dumb (dumb), uh
mr. glock, the baguette don, yeah (baguette)
exotic smoke in my lungs, ooh (yeah, yeah)
i really came out of them slums (out ’em)
i’m finna buy me a house with a pond (yeah, yeah)
yeah, and i put this sh~t on my moms, yeah (yeah, yeah, yeah)
i think i was born with a gun (yeah, yeah)
i’m a son of a gun, uh (yeah, yeah, yeah)
b~tch, you know where i’m from, yeah (b~tch, uh)
south memphis, filled up with villains and gremlins
lil’ n~ggas with extensions on guns (thirties), yeah
don’t play with the kid, you know how i get (you know it)
i get that sh~t done (done), uh
maybach on my wrist, this young n~gga lit (lit)
and a porsche on my guns (woo), duh (duh)
[outro: young dolph]
sh~t don’t make no sense (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
this sh~t don’t make no sense (no sense)
this sh~t don’t make no sense (no sense)
sh~t don’t make no sense (make no sense)
sh~t don’t make no sense (no sense)
yuh
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