Yung OGee Songtext

C got a six of Act', I told him hold a three
Two hundred on the Rio piece so they can know it's me
Twenty million, all cash, I got a goal to reach
This shit feel different when you independent
I could wake up in the morning and go spend a million
Bro got a crock pot, tryna spend the chicken
Run up on some fast shit and get killed in Lenox
Stamped in my hood, I don't even need my windows tinted
Beat his head with the Glock 'til the pistol bendin'
You a little nigga, I could put out ten G's and get you killed in prison
I know the beat two minutes, but let me trip a minute
I see you got a double cup, but what you sippin' in it?
Louis bag got chicken in it
Brown pint of Hi-Tech, I ain't sippin' liquor
This bad redbone bitch want my pickle in her
Yesterday, I fried a twelve hour, not a chicken dinner
Why you braggin' on that AP and my kitchen bigger?
You run 'round owin' niggas and I got Ricky with me
Would you believe I made a mixtape in fifty minutes?
Sprayed the crowd with ARP, we hit fifteen niggas They ain't die, but we still got our point across
My OG richer than you rappers off of boy and soft
Next time I go to Jersey, knockin' Toya off
I done made so much pape', I'm above the law
I knew that wasn't no real Activis, it ain't numb my jaw
I got a plug on some shit you might not never find
Yeah, I let you fuck my bitch, she was never mine
I was finna pull up with the— nah, never mind
C got a pint, he drunk a five, but he lovin' mine
Freaky loose with the Glock, he did a Cheddar Bob
All I do is count dog shit, I need a bank teller job
Okay, you got your pint of red, but I ain't sellin' mine
Took the whole pint to two G's, he hit in seven time
I just found a four of Act', I feel better now
I really made a couple M's and I can tell you how
He thought he was finna get away, but we ran him down
At first she had some clean pussy, I could smell it now
Took a hundred pills to West Virginia, made eleven thousand
Three mil' in equity, I can't sell my house
Your daddy told, you grew up and told, you a better mouse
The Yung OG now back in the city, bring your cheddar out
Bitch beggin' me to hit her, I'ma sweat her out
Thirty-five hundred for a sweater now
On my real estate shit, I got eleven houses
Don't really give a fuck about this crib, I done slept on couches
Can't believe they killed my brother at that dope house
Burned that bitch down, now ain't nobody sellin' dope out it
Ask about me in my hood, I bet they know 'bout me
The first time I drunk Act', had my nose snotty
And why the fuck you tuck your chain? We don't wanna rob you
And I could really tell you ain't go to Wafi
I got a white boy from up North, he only want powder
Left the halfway house in thirty minutes, I made four thousand