Gettin’ Fishy lyrics

[Intro: Luh Tyler]
Yeah, n*gga
Ayy, n*gga, yeah
Ayy, n*gga, rrr
(Vince, pull up to the stu', man)

[Verse 1: Luh Tyler]
Runnin' them racks up, perfect timing
Jump on the beat, get paid by rhyming
n*gga, they creep, watch how they sliming
Lil' goofy-ass n*gga went broke on diamonds
n*gga, when I step, my bros behind me
Bro sip that drank, he turn to a zombie
Just stack your paper, boy, just keep grindin'
We gon' run the racks up, go see Johnny
We gon' run the racks up, n*gga, just sit back, stack, young n*gga gon' get to the bag
Brodie wake up, bust down in the trap, n*gga, ain't no nap, gotta get off them bags
I be runnin' laps on a n*gga while you in the house on the couch, n*gga, get off your ass
Young n*gga jumped in the booth, no pen, no pad, n*ggas know I'm finna gas
Young n*gga chasin' them blues like Nipsey
Yeah, pop out, b*tch, I'm sticky
Bro make n*ggas run just like they Ricky (Frrt)
Bro in the cut with that switchy
This b*tch got ass on her just like Nicki
Lil' b*tch give top, tell the ho, "Don't kiss me"
Dump a bag on a Cuban, don't want no Richy
These n*ggas be creep, man, sh*t gettin' fishy (n*gga, yeah)
[Verse 2: SCY Jimm]
Ayy, freestyled this sh*t off the head
Play with the gang, you dead
Ayy, run up, send shots at your head
Know you f*ck n*ggas heard what I said
I'm countin' pink and blue money, but somehow still seein' red
Mmm, that boy went broke on a chain, 'fore I go broke, I'm goin' fed, n*gga
Ayy, beat the the pot
These n*ggas flat, I keep a knot
Keep that fire, these n*ggas plot
f*ck n*gga play, we lettin' off shots
Mmm, I can't trust no thot
Ice my wrist, they say I'm hot
Ayy, cheese, we get a lot
They know I'm him, he mad he not

[Verse 3: Wizz Havin]
Ayy, I'm supposed to be in the stu', but I'm in here beatin' the pot
Yeah, talkin' cheese, we get a lot
Stackin' it, I let it rot (n*gga)
n*gga be workin' with cops (f*ck)
These hoes be f*ckin' the opps (Damn)
You broke and workin' the clock
You don't even know how to serve no rocks, n*gga
Every day I wake up, n*gga, I'm beatin' the block down (For sure)
Country boy comin' from Georgia, he finna score like five pounds
n*gga play up in this b*tch, I up this fire, hit five rounds
Free my n*gga True, he finna jump, he in that countdown
[Verse 4: Luh Tyler]
Take your b*tch to pound town, we headed to the top, can't hit the ground
These n*ggas be broke, they dumb, they clowns
My n*ggas step out, drip water, don't drown
Bro jump in the trap, he gettin' off pounds
You ain't tryna get a bag, get your ass from 'round
When you hear that, "Frrt," tell a b*tch get down
Lil' b*tch, I'm the king, don't need no crown
n*gga, yeah, ayy, get that money, look out for my brother, b*tch
n*ggas, they know what it is
Go get that bag, stand on that biz
These n*ggas cap, they work at Lids
I got your lil' b*tch doin' tricks
I'm chasin' that bag, don't chase no b*tch
Let's get in that mode, b*tch, I'm finna glitch