Young Lay - All About My Fetti lyrics

The definition of a playa hata: A busta A b**h with a dick A violator of the Sixth Bar of the Mack Game "Man, you know that n***a Khayree f**in Mac Mall on his money, man You know that n***a Lay ain't gon' get paid Heard Ray Luv in jail and sh**" Little old b**h-a** muthaf**as Mac Mall Young Lay Ray Luv I'mma need y'all to come in, man I need the whole Young Black Brotha Records line-up to come in And spit some game to these lil' old b**hes with dicks Playa-hatin busta-a** nuthin-a** n***as Now you nuthin-a** n***as check game Hey playa, don't it be a point in your life Where you just wanna smoke a muthaf**a, man? (f** yeah!) Man you get to trippin on some of that wild sh** Hoes and flauntin sh** A n***a tryina kick back, man, you know Be real about his fetti though They all in a n***a mix What's up, Mac Mall, Ray Luv What's up, playas? Hey man, that be them inner way-a** n***as, Lay Cuz it's like this, man: When my album came out, man Next thing you know it's a million muthaf**as in my face Askin me so many questions sh**... Young Ray Luv, what's up man? (Jealous-a** muthfaf**as...) Yo, we tryina come real about the fetti though (Hell yeah) That's right Check this out You know we all about that money, man Got no time to be trippin on that stupid sh** Little old biaatch Ah, it's goin down (That's right) But anyway Who finna serve em some of that old pimp sh**, man? (I think Ray Luv) Your n***a Young Ray Luv in the house (I think I'm finna come on first) Tell em muthaf**as [ Ray Luv ] One mo' time for the streets of k**a Cali Grew up on the dank and shootin dice up in the alley Back when n***as had names like Rock Tee, Chin and bu*ta O.G. game from the muthaf**in gutter I guess it was cool when a n***a had no riches Cuz n***as didn't p.h. and run they mouths like b**hes Much love for the hood, what up, n***a, where's my homies? Show love for these n***as, but they ain't got no love for me Jealous as f** when I got love from the Crest n***as But all I get is mean mugs from you West n***as Now that I think these muthaf**as is so funny 'll peel a n***a's cap for a trick-a** nobody (You better check your heart and your brain, man I think you n***as need to get up on some game, man) Picked up on your ho, I'm gettin jocked by your steady All I want the money though, I'm all about my fetti n***a Money money money's all I know I gots no time to waste with you trickin punk-hoes Money money money's all I see You need to get some game and quit f**in with me Moneeey (I'm all about my fetti) Money [ Mac Mall ] Now half of these n***as is falsified The rest is full of mess, so they tend to hide A lotta them is cowards who be actin hard Some is tired-a** tricks who will never get far Some is straight dopefiends tryina grind they lley But they still pushin pebbles to this muthaf**in day Some start funk over hoes and blame it on somethin else Them n***as need to check theyself But the s**er that I hate the most Is the busta full of envy, mad cuz he broke Every night he be stressin, thinkin that his ho wanna get me I wouldn't f** her with yo dick, she ain't got nothin to give me Cuz your n***a is broke, so ho, I know you're starvin So you won't have to worry about Mac Mall harmin Your boyfriend and girlfriend relationship I got my money and my cuddies, who needs a b**h? Mac Mall will never get played I'mma stay Ses ways And you know I'm all about that money That's all I know, n***a f** them hoes and them n***as That's all I see in the Triple C Stop f**in with me I'm all about my fetti I'm all about my fetti Yeah, my n***a Young Lay Come serve these fools [ Young Lay ] Gettin blimped with a tramp up on ? confusin what's right To hide the doubt, so I grab my money and my lle', high Why do these youngsters by so nervous n***as creepin thru these turfs Plus these po-po's tryin to serve us ill But I kick back and just act with my f**in clan And kick that gangsta rap and spit about my gangsta macks On rap tracks and spit for those that copy free And givin they dap and tellin me it ain't a day without drink and weed G's get stacked, now who's a mack, yeah, the n***a shook ya Ki's of crack get cut down, but but not by the cook up But yo, they crookers, watchin me all the time But I keep lookin and keep a nine by my spine Or to my side, cuz when I ride you'll never know But if it's over some dough, Young Lay is quick to let it go And let him know, n***a, that this is loc side Home of the mack, playa pros, squares run and hide Cuz tonight we gonna do it just like this But if your ho is choosin, n***a, the mic's in my fist Some of this mixed with a whole lotta that Old fuelin with new, it made my fetti fat Money money money's all I know I gots no time to waste with you trickin punk-hoes Money money money's all I see You need to get some game and quit f**in with me Moneeey (I'm all about my fetti) Money Ah yeah Youknowmsayin? There it is right there And there you have it, muthaf**as Straight muthaf**in game From three pimpin-a** young playin-a** muthaf**as Ray Luv Mac Mall And Young pimpin-a** Lay Youknowmsayin? They just touched it on that 6th bar of them 32 muthaf**in bars You muthaf**in busta-a** n***as with complexes Broke punk-a** muthaf**as that always got your muthaf**in nose Into somebody else sh** Now what you need to be doin Is gettin your own muthaf**in game tight You understand me? And eh - youknowmsayin Put some fetti in your own muthaf**in pockets 'stead of runnin round here talkin bout what the f** is we doin Youknowmsayin? Cjz we straight dwellin on the green Ain't got no time for that in-between Youknowmsayin? So all you busta-a** n***as f** y'all, we all about the fetti, man