Yellow Gangbangers lyrics

[Intro: Shawny Binladen]
Yeah, uh
Yeah

[Verse 1: Shawny Binladen]
Wanted some drank, he got hit with the Tussin
She off the 30, I got that b*tch bussin’
Cookies, I got this sh*t for my bousin
Spinnin’, I’m spinnin’ my drum [?] hundred
Brand new thirty, know we gotta drum it
Walk down, run down, tell ‘em to run it
I get the pack and you know I’ma punt him
Summon the [?] was runnin’
So many guns, woulda thought we was gunnin’
But I’m [?] b*tch you know how we comin’
Straight bookbags, gotta walk with them hundreds
Heard he outside so you know that I spun it

[Verse 2: Big Yaya]
We gave them thirties they threw us some hundreds
We ain’t [?]
Cartier, only see 20s, 50s and them 100s
Māthā A1, sound like she hummin’
Pockets they crippin’, but you know I’m bummin’
All these pounds, I’m going to London
All this drip, you’d think we wеnt to Italy
Say they ballin’, yeah right, little lеague
My young son [?] play for the Yellow League
Cuffin’ that hoe like she got a felony
Tryna cop mama a crib off a melody
He ridin’ with the top off, do him like Kennedy
Real money gon’ show who a friend of me
[?] a friend to your enemy
I don’t [?] the Grinches to the enemy
Come back [?] I got the remedy
This a marathon, I don’t care who ahead of me
Too much kids I might get a vasectomy
What you [?], you can’t even get next to me
OG, like Mr. Krabs with the recipe
[Verse 3: GrinchN4$]
Junkies, like Triple H for the pedigree
AMG and I ain’t go to a Spelling Bee
f*ck a blue check ‘cause I gotta check on me
12 on me, I’m gettin’ [?] for my felonies
[?] where killers be
Louis V on my tee
Checkerboard on my feet
For Halloween I coulda dress as a checker piece
[?] my pops I created my destiny
The soda gon’ pop if you fill it with too much lean
My pockets will sag if I fill ‘em with too much green
Got the Gucci helmet, it’s gon’ stop you from tryna think
My glasses got diamonds, it’s making it hard to –
I lost the keys, but I’m pushing to start the V
My b*tch a Cuban, I might buy her a Cuban link
Moncler [?], my neck [?]
Shoot and he leave the scene
Yellow money and I look up, the sky green
It’s daytime, but I just lit up the high beams
When I’m diamond shopping I be going to Avi’
Got a skinny white b*tch, she remind me of [?]
She off the Molly
My other white b*tch, I be servin' her Bobby
It’s the Grinch [?], remind her of a zombie
I be everywhere at the [?]
People gon’ be watching when I use [?]
When the Yellows in the line, the stars align
I ball in the hood, won’t ball for the Giants
I flex, ho, without tryin’
I don’t design, but I’m in designer
I’m in the trap sellin’ marijuana
And my jeans [?] Dolce Gabanna
My block hot, they call it a sauna
The check, I signed it
I went for profit
[?]
The glizzy on me, I ain’t tryna do dropkicks
I ain’t got no [?] to call [?]
I’m just ridin’ with the stick inside it
Tokyo Drift sh*t, exotic spots
This a 20 dollar [?]
I text that b*tch, yeah, that pus*y, I missed it
But I won’t kiss her
She suckin’ my di*k, she be leavin’ her lipstick (That māthā)
What she does, she can't [?]
[?] in the head and I tell ‘em report cards
X on my jeans like I filled a report card
You come to Queens gotta check in with the yellow stars
Givenchy shirt, GTA, it got three stars
I'm tossin' the weed while I’m rolling from cop cars
My di*k ain’t hard, in my pants the Glock hard
Kinda feel [?] I’m getting ‘em all off
f*ck a tip-off, I ball before I let the ball off
No Cartier, then I’m calling ‘em Ray Charles