Scoring lyrics

[Intro]
Hit-Boy

[Verse 1: DaBoii]
n*ggas thought that it was over, b*tch, I think not
If I talk to this b*tch nice, she'll give mean top
You n*ggas still ain’t seen ten, y'all ain't seen guap
And I just put it in her stomach, that’s her G-spot
Everybody think that b*tch loyal, we don't see not
Spent nine hundred on some kicks that look like Reeboks
All these colors in my chain, I'm a peac*ck
And you the type to pull the trigger while it's de-c*cked
You play dumb and go blind when you see opps
And his b*tch tryna pull my jack out the beanstalk
And my mama raised a man, I ain't need pops
If they don't wanna pay no homage, b*tch, we need props, b*tch

[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
Young n*gga lane switching in the foreign
I ain't nothin' like your n*gga ’cause he broke and he boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, b*tch, we scoring
Brodie-bro up that Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain’t finna do sh*t, don't speak on sh*t
Give a f*ck about your n*gga, he don’t be on sh*t
I don't need no n*gga, I don't need no b*tch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don’t need no lip
[Verse 2: Yhung T.O.]
I would if I could, I can't speak on it
That chain ain't him, ain't no D on it
And this a tennis, not no real chain
And brodie-bro on probation, usin' bro name
Ayy, throw it back, let me see something
If you ain't never left the hood, you ain't see nothing
The real n*ggas just gon' shoot with less discussion
n*ggas still claim that block but don't be from it

[Verse 3: Slimmy B]
Said you on me, when you see me, better bust then
Bought a Jag the first time I ever touched ten
Grimy n*gga, ain't no b*tch want to f*ck then
Ring the bell, kick the door, then we rush in
Really in the field, b*tch, we outside sliding
n*ggas say they really in the field, but they hiding
Young fly n*gga, sh*t, I could've been a pilot
All I talk is cash, broke n*ggas stay silent
Hop up out the Wraith, doors on that suicide sh*t
I don't even want to f*ck your b*tch, too much mileage
You the type to walk the whole mall and never buy sh*t
pus*y n*gga thinking I'm a lick, come and try it

[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
Young n*gga lane switching in the foreign
I ain't nothin' like your n*gga 'cause he broke and he boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, b*tch, we scoring
Brodie-bro up that Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain't finna do sh*t, don't speak on sh*t
Give a f*ck about your n*gga, he don't be on sh*t
I don't need no n*gga, I don't need no b*tch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don't need no lip