Ty Fyffe - Uh-Ohh lyrics

[Intro - Styles P] I heard you gettin' money but you're not like me I heard your little raps but you're not SP So close your f**in' mouth when you're next to a G Glock 500, but these bullets come free [Verse 1 - Styles P] Money make the world go 'round, plus vertical From no car to a luxury convertible n***as that had love now wanna murder you I be spazzin', blitzin' like all Madden Me and this pretty hunny sharin' this orgasm I'm on the 'Gnac and shorty on the Murlo Fur coat to the homie on the furlo Drivin' on murder beach, slow than a turtle 65 there then 65 back You could get a million dollars off of 65 stacks We neither here, we neither there But if the car smell like smoke then n***a Febreze the air Spray the ozium, still break bread With n***as that move opium and still racketeer Huntin' for money so run like a pack of deer If you ain't heard me clear that's why I'm clappin' at your ear [Hook - Sheek Louch] Three guns on set, which one you wanna hear Got the paper on deck, throw that money in the air When I pull up in the front, all these n***as do is stare I'm a dream to these women but these n***as; nightmare Yeah, uh-ohh! I heard you gettin' money but you're not like me I heard your little raps but you're not SP So close your f**in' mouth when you're next to a G Glock 500, but these bullets come free Uh-ohh! [Verse 2 - Styles P] The hardest out just got co*kier Tell these rap n***as round they little posse up Your cars got bigger and your j**els got rockier But the Ghost move just like the mafia You wanna know what I'm talkin' 'bout Knockin' I ain't home then go to my other house My moms ain't home then go to her other house Real till I go to my father and little brother's house That's up in heaven, n***a God forgive me for robberies, never was a beggin' n***a Put 30 holes and you f**in' with a 7 n***a Lyrics for anybody who rap; whatever, n***a And i mean it With no click or no crew, bring the steam to you like the cleaners And I'll press you and let you air dry Yeah it's a rap, my n***a, that's your air time [Hook - Sheek Louch] Three guns on set, which one you wanna hear Got the paper on deck, throw that money in the air When I pull up in the front, all these n***as do is stare I'm a dream to these women but these n***as; nightmare Yeah, uh-ohh! I heard you gettin' money but you're not like me I heard your little raps but you're not SP So close your f**in' mouth when you're next to a G Glock 500, but these bullets come free Uh-ohh! [Verse 3 - Styles P] Hope to live to see my young son turn into my oldest son Smokin' weed, countin' money with a loaded gun Never thought the platinum era's better than the golden one These n***as gon' see when the soldiers come Titanium raps Lyrically lap n***as, to tell the truth; none of us is on the same track You just gettin' to the park I'm runnin' cross-country, like the Africans, the one's who don't be stopping when it's dark I'm just tryna write the script, you just tryna play the part You the arms, I'm the brain and the soul and the heart These them over-your-head bars Live n***a, k**in' your dead bars [Hook - Sheek Louch] Three guns on set, which one you wanna hear Got the paper on deck, throw that money in the air When I pull up in the front, all these n***as do is stare I'm a dream to these women but these n***as; nightmare Yeah, uh-ohh! I heard you gettin' money but you're not like me I heard your little raps but you're not SP So close your f**in' mouth when you're next to a G Glock 500, but these bullets come free Uh-ohh!