lirik lagu young dre - fdb
[hook: young dro]
my true game and my shoe game
you can’t touch that sh-t
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
f-ck that b-tch, f-ck that b-tch
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
f-ck that b-tch, f-ck that b-tch
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
[verse 1: young dro]
three – what you wanna do here?
b-tch, i’mma float like root beer
still workin’ on gettin’ the coupe cleared
you ain’t got none of my shoe gear
red on the bottom, right, they’re red
shawty, she a model, her hair red
b-tch you ugly and b-tch you ugly
and both y’all hoes look scary
i don’t wanna get married
chick, you a bird – parrot
i’m eatin’ so good these hoes like
“boy you’re gettin’ fat, eat salad”
i’m ridin’ round and i’m gettin’ it in and i’m bunkin’
got your main b-tch on my d-ck sh-t she ain’t nothin’
her hips phat i seen her walk past i was like sh-t
she seen my audemar she tried to touch that, i said “b-tch?”
i bang hoes ridin’ in the top drop range rove
i train hoes i’m a pimp – trinidad james clothes
[bridge: young dro]
west side, bankhead, is where i’m from
everything y’all did has been done
my true game and my shoe game
you can’t touch that sh-t
[hook:]
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
f-ck that b-tch, f-ck that b-tch
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
f-ck that b-tch, f-ck that b-tch
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
[verse 2: gambino]
eastside, zone 6… where i’m from
got a couple hundreds, i’mma throw a lot of ones
f-ck her with a rubber, i ain’t tryna have sons
n-gga mean-mugging, they don’t really want none
f-ck it, i’m turned up – too loud
ratchet b-tches won’t do me
i’m like “what the h-ll? i’m on duty now”
i’m rich, used to be poor
i dont really trust ‘em if i met ‘em on tour
bought a new house, livin’ on the top floor
elevator go “bing” when you at the front door
i ain’t never do ch0r-s, i ain’t takin out trash
i ain’t made no beds, got a maid with an -ss
but ‘em on blast, i don’t give a f-ck
got a bad b-tch like she peed on the rug
i used to live off of picanha, in ’88 like piano…
i’ll put your girl on camera
i see the future, ciara
molly all in her champagne… she knew it
big sean, that baby moms… i do it
f-ck that b-tch with a broken d-ck… i love my new girl
she don’t talk sh-t, she don’t act extra
she just give brain and the brain so mensa
put her in the game, but a n-gga might bench her
i don’t pay attention, i don’t even text her
she wanna talk sh-t, but then have a friendship
f-ck you, b-tch, and i hope you offended…
biotch!
[hook:]
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
f-ck that b-tch, f-ck that b-tch
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
f-ck that b-tch, f-ck that b-tch
a b-tch that holler ‘bout “f-ck me?”
nah, f-ck that b-tch
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