TURKS lyrics

[Intro: Damedot]
(Welcome to the trenches, stay dangerous)
Hey
Hey, hey
Yeah

[Chorus: Young Will]
I want you, baby, your n*gga a HAM
Twistin' my fingers, I'm five-letter fam
I got her bent over showin' her yams
I'm in a drop-top coupe on the 'Gram
She make a move without usin' her hands
She give me head without usin' her hands
I just got 'em wacked by—
I just got 'em wacked by the nod of my head
That's what he get for not usin' his head
Twenty-four hundred, that's just for my pants
I hit her already, I'm wantin' her friend
Bustdown APs, presis, Cuban link
Diamond links, n*gga, you know how we playin'
b*tch, I just might fly you to Turks
b*tch, I just might buy you a purse
b*tch, I should charge you for a verse, b*tch

[Verse 1: Young Will]
You know that I'm puttin' in work
I'm slidin' in Demon to church
Put a f*ck n*gga right on a shirt
Hey, then I go make me a verse
Ice on my neck and my hands to sleaze
n*ggas get spinned tryna go 'gainst the team
The shirt got no print, but the b*tch said "Celine"
The money turn me out to a fiend
Your b*tch on her hands and knees
I'm sellin' P's, ten of 'em gone in a week
Can't go for bargain, my price my fee
Zaza hit like Muhammad Ali
This b*tch go from 0 to 60 in three
How many b*tches could I fit in a sleeve?
Rick Owens shirt and it's made out of sheep
These hoes love a n*gga who spend, not cheap
[Chorus: Young Will]
I want you, baby, your n*gga a HAM
Twistin' my fingers, I'm five-letter fam
I got her bent over showin' her yams
I'm in a drop-top coupe on the 'Gram
She make a move without usin' her hands
She give me head without usin' her hands
I just got 'em wacked by—
I just got 'em wacked by the nod of my head
That's what he get for not usin' his head
Twenty-four hundred, that's just for my pants
I hit her already, I'm wantin' her friend
Bustdown APs, presis, Cuban link
Diamond links, n*gga, you know how we playin'
b*tch, I just might fly you to Turks
b*tch, I just might buy you a purse
b*tch, I should charge you for a verse, b*tch

[Verse 2: Damedot & Young Will]
Yeah, I'm fresh like I'm goin' to church
Have you ever been to the Turks?
Bae, can I buy you a Perc'?
Hey, she fine, I'ma Louis her purse
Switch on the Glocky is makin' it squirt
They skip the sheep just to make me a shirt
Maybach truck, I'm knowin' they hurt
Due plays, we pressin' for a quart
How I'ma want you, your n*gga a fan
Tattoo my body, I'm five-letter fam
I walk in the bank, they know who I am
Bustdown Rose Gold AP, plain anniversary diamond links, you heard what he said
b*tch, I might just fly you to Turks
b*tch, I might rain if you twerk
b*tch, you know I'm the greatest on Earth (Yeah, b*tch)
[Chorus: Young Will]
I want you, baby, your n*gga a HAM
Twistin' my fingers, I'm five-letter fam
I got her bent over showin' her yams
I'm in a drop-top coupe on the 'Gram
She make a move without usin' her hands
She give me head without usin' her hands
I just got 'em wacked by—
I just got 'em wacked by the nod of my head
That's what he get for not usin' his head
Twenty-four hundred, that's just for my pants
I hit her already, I'm wantin' her friend
Bustdown APs, presis, Cuban link
Diamond links, n*gga, you know how we playin'
b*tch, I just might fly you to Turks
b*tch, I just might buy you a purse
b*tch, I should charge you for a verse, b*tch