GoldLink - G.Y.L.O. lyrics

[Intro] Get your freak on, (3x) Yeah yeah yeah oh yeah yeah [Verse 1] What the f** you a snitch, f** with me read the lick Gorgeous body with a pretty a** face I don't give a f** b**h I'll be hittin' anyway Get the bag, get the work, squirt the gat, no actin' up Rich rapper n***a really want to start a problem Pissed off a n***a wanna solve him Pow pow roll n***a I'm ballin' b**h a** n***as be like you ain't ballin Cause I'm a real n***a and we ain't never been to college Real n***as stay in the ghetto we came from Teachin' them little mother f**ers how we came up, stayed up Gotta a little rich, gotta a place to get laid up These wack n***as, trill n***as, on the rise New b**h told me she spits on the cum now Thats your n***a well your my b**h Bust down on the couch bust that b**h f** that f** that, f** that Hallelujah to my n***as who made it all alone now Aiming when we shootin' and we shootin' a few rounds And we stay low, keep em goin' for a few rounds Get our money up and never say a word Smoke that sh** and collect them birds [Hook] I peaked my cellular I see your chick she callin' me I swerve in Benzs windows tinted, she wanna swallow me If you a basic b**h, then girl don't even bother me b**h I'm grown b**h I'm grown, 20 years hit the floor Throw that a** for manager, throw that a** for my D.J New b**hes in my pa**enger, west side my neighborhood b**h I'm grown b**h I'm grown, 20 years hit the floor b**h I'm grown b**h I'm grown, 20 years hit the floor [Verse 2] b**h n***as be lying, dying for nickle bags And b**hes still be callin' me ugly and say they wouldn't f** me Still got that flare I got that juice When I first pull that trigger Real magic sticker no fifty but bet that nine hit cha I call my homie like "Homie" ("What Up?") "I need a couple grams, so I can be the man solely" ("I gotcha") See I ain't into pictures, I ain't into f**ing hoes, (Not Really) See I am just into women stripping, taking off their clothes I suppose I'll speed it up, and still I beat it up p**y the tree for us I'll beat it up D-wade three way act, Bill Withers you ain't on us I clean sh** up, b**h you on my bus, b**h you on my bus You get this work, flip that work for dirt, you know whats's up [Hook] [Outro] "Oh my f**ing god Royal, we did it, we f**ing did it."