YSR Records lyrics

[Intro: YSR Gramz & Eightball Tank]
(Enrgy made this one)
Yung Sak Runners (Ayy)
b*tch

[Verse 1: Eightball Tank]
Streets is a b*tch and we married, I don't need no bae
Dog got popped with his heat, he don't no K
Baby chop with the curl clip, look like a Frito-Lay
Pull this b*tch out and bless your ass, boy, in Jesus name
And I owe dog a headshot, boy, I can't wait to pay
Outside his crib like a kid, b*tch, come out and play
Heard your mans locked for a body, he ain't beat the case
Heard he finna get his ass cooked like a t-bone steak
I ain't even this b*tch daddy, she do what I say
'Cause she know I'ma cut her off if she disobey
I made that b*tch my sideline, she your fiancé
Oh, you like to put a ring on it? Boy, you Beyoncé

[Verse 2: Driveway Baby]
These n*ggas wastin' all these bullets, they ain't got no aim
Beam on the XD, you can get hit in the brain
Don't get it twisted 'round this b*tch, I'll go insane
Knock a n*gga out his buffs, he won't have no frames
Bag out that b*tch, you know it's time to get active
Lil Tank a Sak Runner, now it's time to get nasty
Chop wood got dry skin, got the wood all ashy
I like crazy b*tches, but they all gotta be classy
Got a lil' b*tch from out of town, she gotta be the baddest
SRT or a 'Maro, sh*t, which one go the fastest?
Catch me OT with a roll on me eatin' crab, b*tch
Them n*ggas talkin' big money, real life, never had sh*t
[Verse 3: YSR Gramz]
Poured a deuce in my pop before I hit the booth
He ain't see me sneak in with the Glock, n*gga, peek-a-boo
YSR versus anybody, n*gga, pick your troops
I'll get to shootin' right now like I'm by a hoop
I'll call my lil' brother up, he'll smoke your boots
Oh, your cousin want some? We gon' smoke him too
I would've been quit rap if I was old as you
We'll shoot fifty-somethin' times, they won't notice you
Bad b*tches get to smoke Runtz, you get Gorilla Glue
7.62s hit his whip, I think his engine blew
My head really f*cked up, I'm a loose screw
I'm on my way to Tennessee with that Scooby Doo