Letra de On They Azz - Yung Sinn

(Morley, you a fool for this one)

Everybody know that boy a fool

Yeah, yeah, yeah

These niggas broke as fuck, on my mama

Yeah, he still ridin' in a Honda

(King of the Court)

Yeah, I'm in your hood with the G-ride, a sheet to cover the tag

Everybody gun came with a bag

On my mama, we comin' to smash

Yeah, we shoot up the birthday bash

Yeah, we servin' the opp folks grass

Put it in her throat, watchin' her gag

I get on this mic' and I get on they ass

Yeah, big bullets for the perpetrating

Opp pack, this is the dead fragrance

Yeah, run up, watch how I head take 'em

Yeah, stick pancake 'em

Fuck nigga, you not a real robber

Yeah, I'm buckin' on you, I'm a shot caller

Yeah, stick on a martyr

Yeah, he mad 'cause the fuck nigga falling

Yeah, why you bringin' her up? She calling

My closet, I done put them all in

Ice bust, faucet

Yeah, you gon' die if our paths keep crossing

Yeah, ransom gang, he a hostage

Have big bro runnin' this shit, he an ostrich

I might just shoot at that ho if she toxic

Walk in the club drunk, alcoholic

Yeah, you better not mention lil' shorty

I got the four-fizzy and the forty

Mental health shooter, I swear I'm retarded

He talkin' that fuck shit, we disregard it

Walked in here with my gun even though I'm tardy

Yeah, fill his ass up with that poison

Got shot in his head 'cause his ass was yawning

Ain't no sleepin' on a mission, you pointless

You can't walk behind me, I'm still kind of jointed

I watch for the backstabs, see 'em coming

Yeah, trap, yeah, it do numbers

Walk in the club hittin' with these pointers

If you reach for my chain, get hit with this thunder

Yeah, hit just like Ronda

We pulled out them blicks, that boy a track runner

Yeah, gave that boy the Forrest Gump-er

Yeah, I'm in your hood with the G-ride, a sheet to cover the tag

Everybody gun came with a bag

On my mama, we comin' to smash

Yeah, we shoot up the birthday bash

Yeah, we servin' the opp folks grass

Put it in her throat, watchin' her gag

I get on this mic' and I get on they ass

Yeah, big bullets for the perpetrating

Opp pack, this is the dead fragrance

Yeah, run up, watch how I head take 'em

Yeah, stick pancake 'em

Fuck nigga, you not a real robber

Yeah, I'm buckin' on you, I'm a shot caller

Yeah, stick on a martyr

Yeah, he mad 'cause the fuck nigga falling

Fuck nigga know how we ride through

We ain't drivin', yeah, I swear we gon' walk through

Yeah, he got shot in his hood, soul food

Didn't I tell you that them spinners gon' eat you?

Yeah, yeah, chop him up, he tofu

Vegeta charm on my motherfuckin' watch blue

Yeah, back 'em back, chopper gon' disintegrate all the haters

We smokin' your folks in the booth, yeah, I swear I'm a ball player

Yeah, we drawin' down on the traitors

Got whacked for tryna be a saver

Yeah, walked in, had thirty-one flavors

Different kind of opp packs, we blaze 'em

My twin got so many years, it ain't faze him

I'ma put a knife to his skull like Jesus

Yeah, Slaughter Gang, that's the label

I had to stand on that block for the cable

I had to pay to shut up the neighbors

'Cause my trap was beatin' like Grady

I took his ho, he call her his lady

She tryna say I gave her a baby

You lyin', ho, show me some paper

You lyin', ho, show me some—

Yeah, I'm in your hood with the G-ride, a sheet to cover the tag

Everybody gun came with a bag

On my mama, we comin' to smash

Yeah, we shoot up the birthday bash

Yeah, we servin' the opp folks grass

Put it in her throat, watchin' her gag

I get on this mic' and I get on they ass

Yeah, big bullets for the perpetrating

Opp pack, this is the dead fragrance

Yeah, run up, watch how I head take 'em

Yeah, stick pancake 'em

Fuck nigga, you not a real robber

Yeah, I'm buckin' on you, I'm a shot caller

Yeah, stick on a martyr

Yeah, he mad 'cause the fuck nigga falling

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