Flava in Ya Ear (Remix) lyrics

[Chorus: Sancho Saucy]
Real talk, [?] kickin'
Flava in they ear
I think I got something they wanna hear
I'm kickin' flava in they ear
Flava in they ear
DJ [?] spin the record, flava in they ear
We got some flava in they ear
Flava in they ear
My n*ggas got the block, ooh, flava in they ear
We got that flava in they ear (Yeah, yeah, we got that)
That flava in they ear (b*tch, we got that)
They taste, ack, so good (Good)
Flava in they ear (I got that)

[Verse 1: Kirko Bangz]
All my n*ggas got sauce, man
I done pulled up on a sauce plan
I'm a eastside n*gga, nеver been a big n*gga
But I swear to god I ain't nevеr [?] change
My n*gga Rizzo from the north, man
He never changed on me like a arcade
My n*gga J.P. from the fifth ward
[?] cream, leave a n*gga in the park, man
I pulled up, two-seater
n*gga use [?], not Adidas
Shoppin' in [?], sauce by the liter
n*gga, this a Bentley, not a Kia
And I don't wanna shop at IKEA
n*gga, I been flickin' my wrist
n*gga, I been flippin' your b*tch
n*gga, I been pimpin' your b*tch
'Cause all them n*ggas she f*ck with ain't got flava like this (Whoo, ayy)
[Verse 2: Sauce Walka]
God damn
Sauce done made another jam (God damn)
OMG, that sauce on me (On me), just post a n*gga to the 'Gram (To the 'Gram)
I done pulled up in a droptop Benz, b*tch
Game need a number like [?]
And the only motherf*cker [?] you can explain us, sauce is HAM (HAM)
Harder than a motherf*cker (Harder than a motherf*cker)
I done put the b*tch in Tokyo (I did)
God damn, I'm Chris Tucker (God damn, I'm Chris Tucker)
Flava in your ear right here, I know he a mean motherf*cker
I know you hear me
Splash, drip drop (Drip)
I done broke a b*tch for a wristwatch
Flava in your ear, got your b*tch with her tits out
What you talkin' 'bout?

[Verse 3: Moe Gang]
All my n*ggas got (Whoo, whoo)
All my n*ggas got (Whoo, whoo, all my n*gga)
All my n*ggas got sauce (Sauce)
All my n*ggas got spice ([?])
Started off, had to pay the drug dealer, turned out nice
Mix the codeine with the Sprite (Lean)
n*ggas deal crack, don't fiend with a mic
Bobby Brown, n*gga, Bobby Brown, n*gga (Sauce, sauce, sauce)
Set it [?], Queen Latifah
n*gga kick flavor like FIFA
n*gga, these Prada, not Adidas
Flyer than an egle
[?] sweater made out of cheetah
n*gga, these [?], not [?] (Nah)
Sauce by the liter
Watching for all my people (Way)
Boy, I swear the chopper shoot a meter ([?] ten-feeter?)
I done drove all them kilos
Know that I'm a hitta like [?]
[Verse 4: Slim Thug]
I got that flava in your ear (Yeah)
Big paper up in here (Yeah)
Try me, watch me push a taper way behind your ear
I got gangstas in that fifth ward that'll kill for me (Yeah)
Made it out the hood but my hood still love me (Ayy)
Put that [?] on the map when that south had it loud (Outside)
Cut them braids off 'cause my sh*t kept falling out (Damn)
Took the grill out but, b*tch, I'm still the trillest (I'm still the trillest)
Made mills with no deals, still spittin' flava, spiller

[Chorus: Sancho Saucy]
Real talk [?] kickin'
Flava in they ear (I got [?])
I think I got somethin' they wanna hear (They wanna)
I'm kickin' flava in they ear (That's flight)
Flava in they ear (That's flight)
DJ [?] spin the record, flava in they ear
We got some flava in they ear (Spin)
Flava in they ear (Chase it)
My n*ggas got the block, flava in they ear (n*gga got that, got it)
We got that flava in they ear (Yeah, yeah, we got that)
We got that flava in they ear (b*tch, I got that)
The taste, ack, so good
Flava in they ear (Good, we kick that)