Grammer School lyrics

[Intro]
(Enrgy made this one)
What the f*ck? Is that YSR Gramz right there?
Yeah, yeah, that's him
Man, I promise you, man, that n*gga ain't on sh*t, man
He ain't been on sh*t since grammer school, man
He ain't no real young sack runner
He don't run b*tch for sh*t, bro

[Chorus]
It get scary 'round here, you better tuck your chain
n*ggas backdoorin' n*ggas, it's a dirty game
A n*gga got caught and told the feds like thirty names
Youngin sixteen years old, but he bust brains
If you really love me, b*tch, put this gun in your name
You was a real-ass n*gga 'til the money came
In the wide-body Scat Pack, we in different lanes
I love whеn she call me Big Gucci, that's my other namе

[Verse 1]
I buy Rockell everything, that's my mother name
Bro just rolled up some sh*t that smell like onion rings
I know I hit the clerk when I heard a ding
You wasn't born in the hood, you never heard of fiends?
I know it's fire-ass weed when it made me sneeze
I just poured a four in my pop, it just made me dream
One shot from the Five-SeveN, it's gon' make him bleed
Put a switch on the back of it, it's gon' make him leave
He just rolled some bullsh*t up, it look just like leaves
Brodie got forty bands on him, but he cannot read
Zaza got me chokin' on it, man, I cannot breathe
Fire comin' out the Draco, man, I cannot see
You ain't God, n*gga, you can't tell me what I cannot be
I know some n*ggas sellin' dog food in Tennessee
Old head keep a knife on him, he a Wolverine
You the type of n*gga tell a n*gga what you gon' do to him
[Chorus]
It get scary 'round here, you better tuck your chain
n*ggas backdoorin' n*ggas, it's a dirty game
A n*gga got caught and told the feds like thirty names
Youngin sixteen years old, but he bust brains
If you really love me, b*tch, put this gun in your name
You was a real-ass n*gga 'til the money came
In the wide-body Scat Pack, we in different lanes
I love when she call me Big Gucci, that's my other name

[Verse 2]
LSP, Loski Brim, that's my brother name
Before I made money off of rap, I went and got a chain
f*cked around and hit FanDuel and got another chain
I ain't f*ckin' with the weed, I got another lane
Fell in love with this b*tch, she got some different brain
This a big .308, b*tch, it shoot missiles, mane
Long live that n*gga Skino, I swear I miss you, mane
And them 'bows came early, think Christmas, mane
I'm a Beecher n*gga, YSR is just a different game
Four-fives, ARs and Dracs, we got different things
You love pus*y, I love money, we got different takes
I was gon' hit her, but her pus*y smell like fish tanks
I be tryna make a hundred bands off a mixtape
She a bougie b*tch, she don't even think her sh*t stank
She say she on her rag, I can't f*ck, but her lip stank
What type of n*gga say you can ride with him, but the sticks can't?
[Outro]
Like what you mean?
Like I can ride with you, but I can't bring my stick?
Fool, is you f*ckin' stupid?