YG
YG & Nipsey Hussle - You Broke lyrics
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You broke – shut up Don’t talk to me, get your bread up And we used to fuck but I got fed up We eatin’ … All my, all my feta You broke – shut up Don’t talk to me, get your bread up And we used to fuck but I got fed up We eatin’ … All my, all my feta You won’t rap, that fuckin’ throwback I’m some crack You ain’t gotta be a scientist to know that Been to that money, nothin’ before that Bitch I’ll do you dirty, dirty like a floor mat Yeah I’m tired of hearin’ about what you need I’m tired of preparin’ for your weeks I’m tired of you fuckin’ me, tryin’ to get pregnant Knowin’ if you had a baby you’ll say you fuckin’ couldn’t help it I be ridin’ through the city bumpin’ 2 Chainz I ain’t worried ‘bout the police, I got two names Keep the sharp ‘cause sometimes you gotta do things She give away that pussy like loose change Tryna have a nigga baby, the ceiling never… This ain’t recess, bitch you know I don’t play-play Just bought a… just took a vacay Nigga you too broke, you need to call Triple A, eh? How you fuck for cash but you not a hoe? And how I’m gon’ respect you if your pockets broke? On your rap sheet a whole lot of bros It’s a clinic on Western but you out of dough You’re broke, your pussy stink, you borrow clothes Lost the little guap that you had playin’ with your nose I dedicate this to my last bitch Swear I got cash and started actin’ like a… Catch up, keep up, Cutlass with the beat up I be buyin’ pounds, so naw we can’t peace up Rollie with the crown, bet you wanna fuck the king, huh? It’s money over bitches, never fuck this thing up She still fainted when she seen us I’m a Grade A nigga, youse a C+ I got a room a got a broom, bitch, clean up Hit the blade, and play my fee up You shoppin’ at Louis when your baby need Wick You some broke niggas, wouldn’t know you need shit You sick – you triflin’ I heard in the ‘hood your bitch cyclin’ Nobody wifin’ yours… Young nigga got money, no yeah Fast money, fast bitches takin’ hot baths And me and relations don’t last I’m hustlin’, hustlin’, got the bands on my Scotty Sandow I’m hangin’ out the window, bangin’ out the widow Throw it up chunky – wrists all chunky I heard your pussy smell funky And I ain’t used to what you’re used to The only thing in your ear is a Bluetooth You niggas ain’t blinged-out, 20 racks I blow that 5-10-15 I let my nigga hold that