T-Wayne - Broke Wrist lyrics

[Hook: T-Wayne] Young n***a smooth with the wrist [x12] [Verse 1: Rich The Kid] Wrist game, Wrist game Young n***a in the kitchen made a mill with the wrist game f**ing your b**h in that matte black Bring it back Taught her how to whip it in the kitchen Made a come back I was countin' up racks when they was sleepin' on me Bankroll too big, can't put a rubber band on it I could whip it with a motherf**ing broke wrist Had to come up to the plug for the whole brick Young n***a smooth with the pot I don't wanna f** Give me top I got 22 pigeons in the drop I don't f** with nobody cause I'm hot Think I'm playing?, you must be crazy In the living room tryna whip a baby Thank the lord that I made it cuz they hate me Overseas Taking trips out to Haiti They know I'm rich, but a n***a still trappin' We did it once, now the whole world dabbin' Diamonds on froze, like the South Pole Gas bag Gas bag Elbow I know they watching, so I'm trappin' smarter Tryna break the pot I whip it harder [Hook: T-Wayne] [Verse 2: Key] Gotta make love to the pot Love to the pot Gotta make love to the pot Love to the pot When you scrape the pot Better not miss a spot Boy you missed a spot Now you owe me guap Made a lot of guap Off my f**ing wrist I done took some risks That made a n***a rich Shout out my brother Rich Shout out my brother Flip My blood brother, man, man Savage, he gon' trip Oh Lord, not again Oh Lord, not again I think I hurt my hand, man I think I broke my wrist Wrist, Wrist, Wrist Man, f** that b**h This some real sh** Yeah, I really whipped a brick I don't get the gist I don't get the gist I really did this sh** It really don't make no sense You ain't making sense You ain't making sense Get up out my phone I'm finna go f** my dick [Hook: T-Wayne]