Hangover lyrics

[Intro: YN Jay]
(Thank you, J X L A N, I appreciate you)
Ayy

[Verse 1: YN Jay]
Real street n*gga, in the kitchen wrappin' 'bows when it was Christmastime
Told a b*tch I'm finna leave, don't forget your sign
Like a watch fully bustdown, barely see the time
b*tch got a wig and makeup, but she still fine
They say the water deep as f*ck, but I'ma still dive
I be in the hood with the B's, it's a real hive
Me and bro don't got no handshake, we slap five
Hit this b*tch for thirty-seven minutes, got my back tired
Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh, b*tch, ah
Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh, sh*t
Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh, beat the cat down
I growled at a b*tch, she said, "Meow," she made cat sounds
Finna WWE this b*tch, she gеt smacked down
You can tell we bеatin' out this spot, this a trap sound
You can touch your ceilings in your crib, that's a flat house
I'm only in your city twenty hours, then I'm back out
You ain't got no beat in your car, where the speakers at?
It's gettin' cold as f*ck outside, where my heater at?
I'm finna beat somebody ass, where my beater at?
I'm finna pour a whole pint of Wock', where a two-liter at?
Tryna buy a car off the lot, where a two-seater at?
This b*tch eat di*k good, but I don't feed her ass
Beat her doonies down, she go back home, you tryna beat her ass
You a lil' nasty freaky dude, you gon' eat her ass
I could teach you how to get some money, you don't need no class
Get respect and I show respect, I don't need no pass
Catch a n*gga at a red light, bah-bah-bah-bah, I'm finna leave your ass
[Interlude: Skilla Baby]
Oh sh*t, f*ck

[Verse 2: Skilla Baby]
Oh sh*t, they shootin' at the whip, I'm 'bout to smack the coupe
Please put my hops on the floor, throw me an alley-oop (Huh?)
I'll get a n*gga noodled like Campbell soup
Bah-bah-bah, grab the whoop (Huh?)
Man, my opps ain't no killers, they don't got shooters
I'll box a n*gga up, Skilla Zab Judah
They said they said I'm a b*tch, who started that rumor?
That's why I don't like n*ggas, I be tryna fight n*ggas
Huh, that's why every week, I'm in the strikers tryna strike n*ggas
Huh, real pit, f*cked up in the head, I'll bite n*ggas
Name good enough to get the bricks on consignment
Give me that pus*y, boo, I'll introduce you to the Coochie Man
I finger b*tches with my right thumb, that's my coochie hand
Your head might not make me c*m, but your coochie can
She put vinegar in the water, now she smooth again
She just let me f*ck, now that pus*y loose again
Huh, I ain't showin' up for free, man, you gotta pay
Do I sound like YN Jay?
Long arms in the whip with me, Dr. J
Man, I keep my peace on me, namasté
Got some Haitian hitters in the whip with me, sak pase
Hit a b*tch at 7:59, she was blocked by 8
Told the police that was Dennis Graham's, that's not my Drac' (Huh?)
Drop my opp same day that I drop my tape (Huh?)
I ain't comin' out my pod without my shank
My account in the negative, I'm 'bout to, ah
My account in the negative, I'm 'bout to rob my bank (Hah)
[Verse 3: Sada Baby]
I remember when the OJs was a thirty—
I remember when the OJs was a thirty-piece
Tell a n*gga, "You not gettin' money, you ain't heard of these"
Naw, n*gga, you not gettin' money, them is Purple jeans
Naw, n*gga, keep on actin' funny, be done murdered him
Naw, n*gga, I'm the perfect n*gga for a murder scheme
Naw, n*gga, get to stirrin' dope, look like Ovaltine
Naw, n*gga, get to mixin' sh*t, look like Nesquik
Naw, n*gga, get to shakin' sh*t, look like egg beaters
Naw, four-nick loud as hell like it had tweeters
Naw, four-nick loud as hell like an amp on it
Naw, four-nick got a light like a lamp on it
Naw, fishscale still workin', good compressor next to that
I'll push a pus*y n*gga like a pack
Naw, got his b*tch pus*y hooked on pipe like I'm crack
Naw, chopper came from Channel 47, Samurai Jack
Purple drank came from Channel 46, Jimmy Neutron
A Wocky flurry, sip it, then I burp, tell your b*tch I moved on
Naw, I can't flirt and I can't share no Percs, tell a b*tch to move on
You get hurt, end up on a shirt and keep on gettin' rerolled
Talkin' 'bout in the dirt, blicky out a vert, I can't make it worse
Get him murked, put him in a hearse, scared, go to church
Watch me lurkin', you know we gon' swerve, his sister got some nerve
Tried to act like I ain't bag the b*tch without buyin' no purse
Make a promise, matter fact, it's merch, sound like Lil Durk
Press a n*gga just like he deserve, make his mama twerk
Watch me slide down a n*gga block, it look like I'm surfin'
They keep dyin' whenever they outside, n*ggas lookin' nervous, ah-duh