Jay Critch - Applebee’s Freestyle lyrics

[Intro] (OkayKhan, let's do it now) Ayy Ayy, ayy, ayy, yeah Hood fav Ayy, ayy Hey [Chorus] Who gon' miss 'em when them ni**as hit you up? Uh (Boom, boom) Shooters spinning, trying to get it back in blood (Get it back in blood) If you need me in your city, need like fifty racks and up (Bands) I got baddies in the VIP and I got shooters in the cut (Hey) I got different types of Perkies, I got different types of mud (I got different types of drugs) That b*tch asked me for a Birkin, told her, "Never hit me up" (Never hit me up) I'm a guard shooting bullets, I won't never give it up (I won't never givе it up) Why you think we 730? We ain't nevеr give a fu*k (30) Told you some my ni**as cripping, and, yeah, some my ni**as blood (30) Ayy, toolie in the front seat, mop in the trunk (Boom, boom) Uh, and I got them bad hoes, all up in their guts (Hey) Uh, 'cause I got that bag though, she do what I want (She do what I want) [Verse] And I'm back with a masterpiece Shorty, all that ass up on your back, throw it back at me Yeah, these ni**as pussy, yeah, they back having batteries Run it up like athletes And we've been them ni**as, ain't nobody ever laugh at me Two b*tches at Catch, but I could still remember Applebee's Shorty, I'm the catch, you just a baddie and we having these I could let you hold a little toolie 'cause we having these Use to go finesse right after school, was feeling raggedy And we still sending out package Let a boy go and act up, get him wrapped up, yeah, pack it Young ni**a with the Moncler came from my big bro mattress Let it off, put holes in a ni**a Moncler or Mackage Yeah, flame him up like matches [Chorus] Who gon' miss 'em when them ni**as hit you up? Uh (Boom, boom) Shooters spinning, trying to get it back in blood (Get it back in blood) If you need me in your city, need like fifty racks and up (Bands) I got baddies in the VIP and I got shooters in the cut (Hey) I got different types of Perkies, I got different types of mud (I got different types of drugs) That b*tch asked me for a Birkin, told her, "Never hit me up" (Never hit me up) I'm a guard shooting bullets, I won't never give it up (I won't never give it up) Why you think we 730? We ain't never give a fu*k (30) Told you some my ni**as cripping, and, yeah, some my ni**as blood (30) Ayy, toolie in the front seat, mop in the trunk (Boom, boom) Uh, and I got them bad hoes, all up in their guts (Hey) Uh, 'cause I got that bag though, she do what I want (She do what I want)