WYM lyrics

[Intro: Quin NFN]
Ain’t none but some shooters on my team
In the club with all my guys, I put my b*tch in all Celine
Yeah, this Northface is like Gucci what it seem
They be knowing we wildin' out I kinda feel like Chico Bean

[Verse 1: Quin NFN]
Go to work, I lowkey feel like Vert, I’m strapped down with the Uzi (Graah)
She a groupie throwing Quin that coochie just to go meet 2z (Quin)
Quick to dance with this new glick inside my hand I’m getting groovy (Haa!)
From the slums but I walked in the club with Moncler on the Gucci (I’m fly)
Tryna box but we ain’t in to boxing get shot with no options
Off the lot not from an auction, paint the whip red then it’s rammin
Catch a vibe, do what I say, no Simon, filled the neck with diamonds (Diamonds)
They gon' book us Cartier be blinding I can’t tell the time
And my lil' cougar hoe just need for sex, but I just need some neck (Noggin’)
Clutchin Rugers since he like computers let him see this Tec
Find his house, we start cappin’ out don’t need no GPS (Come here !)
f*ck a beam we comin’ snatch your kid like we the CPS (Damn)
You a rat so we can’t beef for nothing I can’t do a thing (At all)
n*ggas sleep on me they had a dream like they Martin Luther King (Wake up!)
I be sittin' back making movies with the team tryna get cream (b*tch)
Come and spin his block, lil' bro gon’ leave it hot like Listerine
Let em play tho they might not see tomorrow but we gon spin today tho
This potato bound to hit his top then we gon’ dip like Queso
Baby Draco and this Glock they go together, cheese & mayo (Damn)
Know the gang don’t need no payroll they gon’ smoke you when I say so (Smoke you when I say so)
[Hook: Quin NFN]
Ain’t none but some shooters on my team
In the club with all my guys, I put my b*tch in all Celine
Yeah, this Northface is like Gucci what it seem
They be knowing we wildin' out I kinda feel like Chico Bean
I can feel the tension on the scene
Know lil' bro come and whack you for a VS diamond ring
n*ggas don’t be beefin' bout no cream
But theses clips stay stretching out like Limousines
Like what you mean?

[Verse 2: Lil 2z]
It’s that gangsta music b*tch we puttin’ sh*t at Golden Gates (At Golden Gates)
Ain't none but some shooters in my team like we was Golden State (Like Golden State)
[?] get the drop don’t post the wrong sh*t on your page (Don’t do that)
My brodie [?] body after body he barely show his face (Shhh)
I feel like Dyrdek with this guap, it’s a ridiculous amount (Hahaha)
And plus my Choppa ain’t got no manners when it fart I air it out
Tryna play Lil 2z, pus*y some I ain’t never heard about (Hun?)
I treat them FN’s like a dumbell when get em I work 'em out (Baw Baw Baw!)
These n*ggas shoulda worked at the mall, cause they 12 like they Paul Blart
I feel like Harry with the stick puttin’ spell on them hogewarts
I’m in the field I be balling but hustle my top sport (It is)
n*ggas names black and white like a pair of some Concords (What the f*ck!?)
Put this b*tch in park and hop out, lean him like he doing the limbo (Hey!)
Put they partners, mommy, daddy, granny, cousin in that K4 (Hey!)
Stack these racks on top of each other like a brand new pack of Mentos
This b*tch is nasty, she tryna eat the sex so she can go meet Quincho (Quincho)