"Yea Yea" lyrics
Iamsu! & Aka Frank Lyrics
Yeah
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah
[*laugh*]
First name stunt, last name ball
Ain't no freak ho', I can't call
Don't like blunts, don't like moss
And I smoke weed, but not like y'all
Niggas gon' hate, girls gon' date
I been used to that profligate
Life's a bitch, this I know
So I hope we procreate
Got up in this rap game, and did one thing, dominate
If it ain't about money, homie then I can't accommodate
It's a cook out, I come over with a paper plate
They think I work at Hostess, based on all this cake I make
Young G, say what I want to
My kick game, like Kung Fu
And if you think you shining, I might mess around and sun you
Eating all these rappers, I can't lie, I like this
Do a verse, box of Jordan's, that's what I call a mic check
I think, I need my eyes checked, I can't see nobody
All I do is 5 star, but bitch this ain't Yo Gotti
I mean hotels, some tells, how I feel is so real
You got no skills, I got pro skills
I got the coke flow, dough, fishscale
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
What it be like, what it gone do?
Never acstac, cause I told you
Been 'bout bread since '02
Wanna hit nigga, I'm the go to
I rock PD, til I OD
I be low key, to my OG
No justice, then there's no peace
You ain't KFC, you want no beef
See me boi, Imma G boi
King soldiers, like a deep blunt
Heavy baller, you a cheat boi
Tennessee boi, you a decoy
On the same court, on the beach boi
Please, don't buy the lean boi
These rappers is my children, you know I follow these boys
Homie live it up, leave it up
I kilt this beat, finna dig it up
Small ball, golf ball
You ain't big enough
Smokin' something that'll probably leave a nigga ducked
Bro sick as fuck, I'll hit ya up
And the phone call, nigga go hard
Imma go hard, got a wallet
We the hottest, that's a promise
Thousands on garments
These rappers ready to seize tarnish
Commas, drama, cheesy, these artists
Shit, selling dope for some retarded shit
Please don't call me neeno, I ain't going down
Turn my city up, when ever my boi in town
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah
[*laugh*]
First name stunt, last name ball
Ain't no freak ho', I can't call
Don't like blunts, don't like moss
And I smoke weed, but not like y'all
Niggas gon' hate, girls gon' date
I been used to that profligate
Life's a bitch, this I know
So I hope we procreate
Got up in this rap game, and did one thing, dominate
If it ain't about money, homie then I can't accommodate
It's a cook out, I come over with a paper plate
They think I work at Hostess, based on all this cake I make
Young G, say what I want to
My kick game, like Kung Fu
And if you think you shining, I might mess around and sun you
Eating all these rappers, I can't lie, I like this
Do a verse, box of Jordan's, that's what I call a mic check
I think, I need my eyes checked, I can't see nobody
All I do is 5 star, but bitch this ain't Yo Gotti
I mean hotels, some tells, how I feel is so real
You got no skills, I got pro skills
I got the coke flow, dough, fishscale
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
What it be like, what it gone do?
Never acstac, cause I told you
Been 'bout bread since '02
Wanna hit nigga, I'm the go to
I rock PD, til I OD
I be low key, to my OG
No justice, then there's no peace
You ain't KFC, you want no beef
See me boi, Imma G boi
King soldiers, like a deep blunt
Heavy baller, you a cheat boi
Tennessee boi, you a decoy
On the same court, on the beach boi
Please, don't buy the lean boi
These rappers is my children, you know I follow these boys
Homie live it up, leave it up
I kilt this beat, finna dig it up
Small ball, golf ball
You ain't big enough
Smokin' something that'll probably leave a nigga ducked
Bro sick as fuck, I'll hit ya up
And the phone call, nigga go hard
Imma go hard, got a wallet
We the hottest, that's a promise
Thousands on garments
These rappers ready to seize tarnish
Commas, drama, cheesy, these artists
Shit, selling dope for some retarded shit
Please don't call me neeno, I ain't going down
Turn my city up, when ever my boi in town
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
Imma Player
Granted, Imma millionaire
