Strap Yo Nuts On lyrics

[Intro]
(Enrgy made this one)

[Verse 1: YSR Gramz]
I make trapper music
I don't give a f*ck what these rappers doin'
We could've got a bag, but you f*ckin' blew it
I ain't gotta let off shots 'cause my n*gga shootin'
Get a half P for thirteen like I hoop for Houston
You should pay attention, take notes like a f*ckin' student
He should've sold dope, but he didn't, turned to a user
This Glock'll make your f*ckin' heart drop like a state trooper

[Verse 2: Six Ward Von]
Drink a four straight out the bottle, f*ck a two cups
Pour some Möet on a model, we done moved up
You ain't even got a dollar and you boo'd up
Still in the hood shootin' dice, fiends shootin' up
I got n*ggas doin' life, and you shootin'—
I got n*ggas doin' life, and you shootin' in the motherf*ckin' air, tryna scare somebody
Only thing you proved, you was tryna spare somebody

[Verse 3: YSR Gramz]
f*ck a b*tch and leave the b*tch alone, I don't care about her
One shot from the Glock'll knock the air up out him
You're tryna flex in front of hoes, you like everybody
We'll slide down your sh*t like we air hockey
I was tryna get a bag, you was doin' robberies
The difference between us, you won't shoot nobody
I won't do the dishes, fiends do the laundry
You ain't tryna get no money, get the f*ck from 'round me
[Verse 4: Six Ward Von]
Kick a b*tch to the curb like I'm Jet Li
A n*gga ask to hold somethin', I'm like, "Catch these"
My young dog'll blow somethin' and he can't read
'Round this b*tch like Ray Charles, I just can't see n*ggas
Everybody tellin', I just can't believe n*ggas
Lil' hoes get sent on, they just can't be seen with us
I got a third eye, I think I can read n*ggas
The only way is up, n*ggas tryna get a million

[Verse 5: YSR Gramz]
I'm tryna get a million, give it to Aaliyah
I miss my n*gga Gabe, why he had to leave us?
She out here havin' kids, she can't even keep 'em
n*ggas lyin' in they raps, I can't even believe it
Mark rollin' three-fives, askin' where the weed went
Nobody trustworthy, I can't even f*ckin' vent
These n*ggas keep a gun, they can't even keep a cent
My n*gga f*cked up, he ain't even got no sense

[Verse 6: Six Ward Von]
Ayy, I got a lot of hoes, b*tches thinkin' I'm a pimp
I'm walkin' with the pole, why a n*gga got a limp
You tryna hit the road, still can't even pay the rent
Man, kill the pus*y first time, hit it with attempt
Say he in a bind, I can't lend a n*gga sh*t
Don't 'posed to be out of town, really outside of Michigan
Shh, don't make a sound, finna put it to your man
Some shootin' in the crowd, you ain't lookin' like a fan
[Verse 7: YSR Gramz]
Can't rap on everybody, for a verse, I need a band
She switched up on me, I ain't see it in her plans
If I ain't got my Glock, f*ckboy, you gettin' slammed
All I do is sell weed, but it's lookin' like I scam
You out here f*cked up, a year ago, you was the man
My shoes Off-White, but my shirt is from Japan
You ain't get it out the mud, b*tch, you got it out the sand
Better strap your nuts on, get some money, quit playin'