Jay Critch - Don't @ Me lyrics
[Intro] Yeah Aye Jay Critch Hood Fav Aye [Chorus] I'm like, f** all that talkin' n***a, I'ma get it without a doubt, ay I'm the n***a she be stressin' 'bout You the type to go stress her out, ay Knots in my pocket, I feel like I gotta go and walk it out, ay (Walk it out) Tell 'em to stop it, you know they gon' do the most for the clout I play the game like a athlete (Athlete) Ever since I got money she jackin' me (Jackin' me) Leave it all on her face like it's ac-ne (Ac-ne) I ran up the racks like a track meet (Track meet) It ain't no GPS, she can't track me (Can't track me) I'm the hottest young'un, don't @ me (Don't @ me) I'm the hood fav, don't @ me (Don't @ me) If you throwin' shade, n***a, @ me (Hood Fav) [Verse] 'Cause they movin' strange, they start tellin' lies When that hate start workin', semi .30's out lurkin' (.30's) I'm tryna get 'em washed like detergent (Like detergent) They be lookin' real nervous in person (Nervous in person) Call my accountant to see how my check look I don't want her, unless she got a checkbook Diamonds fighting, you get hit with a left hook We ain't fighting, got the thunder like Westbrook (Pa-pow) Rings on me like Bill Russell (Bill Russell) Chips in my pockets, no Ruffles (No Ruffles) Stuffin' all the blue hunnids inside of their duffle (Inside of their duffles) Puttin' my women on shuffle (Shuffle) f** her two times, but she won't get no Fendi I know they wish they could stop it and end me (No) Already know these n***as they plottin' and envy I come from a block where they not so friendly (.30) Poured her D’ussé up, she gettin' tipsy (She gettin' tipsy) How I gave her dick, she gotta tip me (She gotta tip me) I'm precautious, I’m ridin’ with Fifty Countin' blue hunnids, R.I.P Nipsey (R.I.P. Nipsey) R.I.P Aggie, came a long way from my Levis baggie 'Cause she look good, got her bag, I’m shaggin’ Runnin' right back to the cash like Madden I was so broke had to get what I can White Moncler, I’m the Michelin Man He was talkin', we ran into the man What’s your homies did when sh** hit the fan I need more money, less court dates Bags so big, throw it up and make the floor shake Ass so big, f** around and make the floor break Girl, I'm in a rush, gimme head, no foreplay I'm makin' plays, I don't watch what the haters say Shoot a crossover, hit him with the fadeaway Shoot a crossover, he drummin' like 808 Don't even know what the f** that I made today n***as ain't want' see me eat, but I made a plate And then I racked up a play for the team n***as frontin', sh** is not what it seems They got followers, they ain't got no green [Chorus] I'm like, f** all that talkin' n***a, I'ma get it without a doubt, ay I'm the n***a she be stressin' 'bout You the type to go stress her out, ay Knots in my pocket, I feel like I gotta go and walk it out, ay (Walk it out) Tell 'em to stop it, you know they gon' do the most for the clout I play the game like a athlete (Athlete) Ever since I got money she jackin' me (Jackin' me) Leave it all on her face like it's ac-ne (Ac-ne) I ran up the racks like a track meet (Track meet) It ain't no GPS, she can't track me (Can't track me) I'm the hottest young'un, don't @ me (Don't @ me) I'm the hood fav, don't @ me (Don't @ me) If you throwin' shade, n***a, @ me (Hood fav)