G.Y.L.O. lyrics

[Intro]
Get your freak on, (3x)
Yeah yeah yeah oh yeah yeah

[Verse 1]
What the f*ck you a snitch, f*ck with me read the lick
Gorgeous body with a pretty ass face
I don't give a f*ck b*tch I'll be hittin' anyway
Get the bag, get the work, squirt the gat, no lackin' bruh
Rich rap n*gga really want to start a problem
p*ssed off a n*gga wanna solve him
Pow pow roll n*gga I'm ballin'
b*tch ass n*ggas I don't like when you be ballin
Cause I'm a real n*gga and we never been to college
Real n*ggas stay up in the gutter where we came from
Teachin' them little mother f*ckers how we came up, stayed up
Gotta a little rich, got a b*tch and then we made love
These wack n*ggas, trill n*ggas, on the rise
New b*tch saw me then she spazzed, told her calm down
Thats your n*gga well your my b*tch
Bust down on the couch bust that b*tch
f*ck that f*ck that, f*ck that
Hallelujah to my n*ggas who made it all alone now
Aiming when we shootin' and we shootin' a few rounds
And we stay low, keep em goin' for a few rounds
Get our money up and never say a word
Smoke that sh*t and collect them birds
[Hook]
I peaked my cellular I see your chick she callin' me
I skrt in Benzs windows tinted, she wanna swallow me
If you a basic b*tch, then girl don't even bother me
b*tch I'm grown b*tch I'm grown, 20 years hit the floor
Throw that ass for manager, throw that ass for my D.J
New b*tches in my passenger, west side my neighborhood
b*tch I'm grown b*tch I'm grown, 20 years hit the floor
b*tch I'm grown b*tch I'm grown, 20 years hit the floor

[Verse 2]
b*tch n*ggas be lying, dying for nickle bags
And b*tches still be callin' me ugly and say they wouldn't f*ck me
Still got that flare I got that juice
When I first pull that trigger
Real magic sticker no fifty but bet that nine hit cha
I call my homie like "Homie" ("What up?")
"I need a couple grams, so I can be the man solely" ("I gotcha")
See I ain't into pictures, I ain't into f*cking hoes, (Not really)
See I am just into women stripping, taking off their clothes
I suppose I'll speed it up, and still I beat it up
pus*y the tree for us I'll beat it up
D-wade three way act, Bill Withers lean on us
I clean sh*t up, b*tch you on my bus, b*tch you on my bus
You get this work, flip that work for dirt, you know whats's up
[Hook]

[Outro]
"Oh my f*cking god Royal, we did it, we f*cking did it."