Master lyrics

by

Krs.


[Interlude:]

[Prod. by Kyber:]

[Intro:]
AYE
b*tch Imma master
Ain't no book (hol up)
*LAUGHS*
Never read no book (b*tch imma master)
I'm blowin this money like I'm casper (wut wut wut)
I ain't read no book; read a chapter (chapter book)
*laughs*
Now hol up, hol up, hol up, aye

[Hook:]
b*tch imma master
I run from my hoes and they try running faster
f*ck with my fam?; that's disaster
I'm preachin', I'm preachin' just like imma pastor
Boy do not test me
I'm drippin' my sauce; that's my recipe (SAUCE)
All got all these hoes on my phone
And I got like 5 farting right next to me (wait hol up)

[Verse 1:]
Minding my business, I'm sippin' on tea
You are not woke if you sleeping on me
Yes I'm allergic to L's; imma SNEEZE
Pull up 3 yards man this sh*t is a breeze
Latinas they have my attention
Do not have bars but we have a connection
I have so much women I have a collection
They love me so much I swear it's an obsession

[Bridge:]
Obsessed, Obsessed
All of these chicks in my nest
They answer me just like a test (huuaa)

[Verse 2:]
She had her hand on my chest (ok ok ok)
I had my hand on her breast (BOOBIES!)
Damn they look just like balloons!
She said I look good in Maroon
I took her ass straight to the room
Damn I am next; and I know that I'm next
Hol up wait a min look at my check
People don't trust me so I gotta prove it
Got a latina I love how she move it
People still hate me I do not know why?
Don't really care it's not like I'm gon die
Cash coming in damn, I'm not gonna lie
Lookin' so fly damn I feel like a fly (BIRDIE!)

[Bridge]
Fly, hol up, fly, hol up
Damn I think that I'm a bird (aye)

[Verse 3:]
All of these hoes wanna flirt (uh oh)
I just spilled sauce on my shirt (oh sh*t)
Got so much cash that they think I'm a plug
They always would hate but now they want more than hugs
Sorry, I'm gon sleep in the lobby
Come back when you wake up on Fabi

[Hook:]
b*tch I'm a master
I run from my hoes and they try running faster
f*ck with my fam?; that's disaster
I'm preachin', I'm preachin' just like imma pastor
Boy do not test me
I'm drippin' my sauce; that's my recipe
All got all these hoes on my phone
And I got like 5 farting right next to me

[Outro:]
*laughs*
YUNG FABI
Versatilee

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