Yungen - Warm Up Sessions lyrics

[Intro] SB Yungen, Money 1st [?] the mandem Barz, E, Teo, Skinz, Ham, Jay, Swag, Nerves [Verse 1] I'm tryna blow, I ain't really tryna see a jail bus I'm looking up because I've been through the hell trust I've got my girls up I'm on the ball to be first, someone put ice in my World Cup Ah, like who's in my bracket? The metaphor's a lighter, these dudes couldn't match it Fronting he's a bad boy but can he hack it 'Cause I'ma turn him back to front if I slap it 'Cause I be kicking, thinking about my dead cousin Thinking 'bout my past, tryna push my ex bu*tons I'll be sipping Yak thinking should I redrum him? We get them ba** sticks out and leave his head drumming I've got the browning forking out the lead Tell him mind how it's talking, I'm all about the head I'm hustling for hard dough so I can eat a king's meal, basically I'm all about my bread They're saying I'm on fire, na I ain't tryna cool off I'm doing kind of well, I ain't tryna fall off My speech marks I'm the best under 21 but I'm just tryna be the best full stop But it's peak 'cause I'm stuck in this pepper war Where over a little picture, the weapons draw I can get a who*e I just give her a punchline and she'll know exactly what I met her for They say talking road I will never make it But I don't live a fairy tale, so why fake it 'Nough man make believe, I don't rate it But sign me for a two pack and we'll see some changes Uh, I'm talking cribs, Ranges I can't watch, I ain't into all that chain sh** I rearrange sh** I've got some metal that handles a whole bag of teeth, can you brace this? They say the game's their's, but the game's our's How can the game be their's if they cowards I've been doing this for months, weeks, days, hours Dug 'em on another level, ask Dane Bowers I go so in, now they notice They're comparing me to Ne-Yo, I'm so sick 'Cause everything that I'm saying, they quote it Straight up man, I'm even on my own dick Real talk, they be loving if I'm dead I still get hood dough but it ain't covering my head I ain't tryna be 21, hustling a Z I'd rather eat the cake with the custard on the edge Now there's so many man I've deserted, I'm tryna break fast without no porridge And I'm the proof that they overrate college Jesus pieces just to show we make profit And when we riding out, we don't call phone I'm tryna slap about 3, bring the ball home Mr. Put it in her stomach, call me gallstones I literally make a who*e moan [Verse 2] I ain't tryna make my ball sink So I always go in first, then I let them all drink Like what the f** he on? That's what they all think I get head from the queen while she's dressed in all pink Get it, check it, my royalty's pathetic I'll be living on William's hill if I bet it I'm tryna go nationwide without no credit And Abbey wants to f** but I'm telling her forget it Money 1st, I'm just tryna get my grands up I've got my stick in Lloyd banks, hands up I send dough to my brudda Stiff banged up Knowing I ain't there with him, thank f** 'Cause I go OTT to get hard Ps I'm tryna start something cut with no car keys I'm done with the gang ting, I'm just calm [?] But if I ain't got my stick, I'ma bark Lee's [Verse 3] Listen, Reece just died, it's like I can't go bed I'm on the case, I don't conversate with no feds I am no beg Height six foot, size six foot, a bag of girl like my bow legs And these days it's like the ends have been so dead So I just kick while the workers link the dopeheads I'm after cheese so I don't jam if there ain't no bread Chocolate girl that I beat 'til there ain't no spread I'm in my own league, there's no one like me Swag's mad, I only rock it if it's pricey Plus I've got a thing for a lightey That likes to wear short short skirts like she's primary She asked me what I do, like what's my occupation She like a 9 to 5 could never pay the guap I'm making I'm like listen babe, I'm always chop and changing She asked me so much that I chop and changed it 'Cause I will die for my Ps My angle's the right one, 90 degrees Take that to Fahrenheit and that gon' be my heat So don't talk my name unless you're talking the elite I think they mistaking me They underrating me I make your album sh**, they mixtaping me I've got a flow, I'm getting dough so they hating me But they don't understand the more they hate, the more they making me Like, I ain't trying to get into politics I've got an A-Level flow, college sh** Plus I've got a bag of dons that I'm on it with Busting off my ting since 14, this is honest sh** 'Cause we was moving bricks So we moving sticks I heard he had one too, he wasn't using it Me I was shooting it, main road loose with it Me, Barz, Lou on the block, back of lunatics Tell him keep up, I'm on the highway gone And I ain't f**ing with him, sideways don Tryna usher me, talking 'bout my way's wrong Ice cube on the pinky, got my Friday on I've got the biscuit in my custom jeans Uh, and I ain't talking 'bout no custard creams Nowadays I don't f** with fiends I've got the youngers on the job, I make a call and they just run me P Like, so the older dons rate me Nineteen, I started this when I was eighteen I'm tryna get my foot in the mainstream Broad day, headshot, shouting 'bout a daydream [Outro] Dun kno, mandem SB Yungen