Y.O. (Yung O) - She Got lyrics

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Y.O. (Yung O) - She Got lyrics

Hook: She got style like a muthaf**a (6x) She got a body like a muthaf**a (6x) Verse 1- Y.O. I dont know how you put dem jeans on/ Watchin yo booty go back and forth look like its ping pong/ I envision myself up in ya don't dat seem wrong/ Hit you with this hammer you'd prolly make it my ringtone, but this should be yo theme song/ Mo' style den a French designer, body got like a 10-inch behind her/ She dropped it low like a recliner, den brought it up like a reminder/ Where dey make these, where'd you find her lookin like somethin thats out of my dream/ Girl you da one I'm tryna pick, like I'm attempting to set up a screen/ And yea dem jeans I'm tryna get you out like an eviction/ She so B.A.D., I'd say I love her, but that ain't part of my diction/ Tell me I'm trippin, I say we should vacate, make tapes like Ray J and Kim/ So bout her money like Baby and Slim, you prolly think that she related to dem/ I cater to dem type, B.A.D., she suit me like pinstripes, swag/ If you was for sale you'd already been bagged, fully accessed ain't a thing that you lack/ Dressin like you just came up out of Saks, with 2 random dudes tryna carry ya sacks/ Ain't talkin money, but she got a rack, that body should be engraved on a plaque/ Hook: She got style like a muthaf**a (6x) She got a body like a muthaf**a (6x) Verse 2 - TKO Capone Aye she got style, man she super bad, mo' cheese than a chalupa has/ She jumped inside me roofless slab, and blue me like a Hoover flag/ I never been a loser f*g, 50 Tyson stupid swag/ When I walked in her pad her kids looked up like huh are you my dad/ Eeen, hell naw, I don't know what really to tell yall/ I'ma danell nah so move around I don't wanna smell yall/ Skinnamarink I think she has mo' kids than Dashiki/ I'm only over here cause I'm frenchie, came to give ya mama some winkie/ Well duh, ring ring ya its the O Capone/ Yung O called my phone said we in need of a song/ Switch gears, she winked her eye so I must reply if her man trip I'ma dust the guy/ She's the sh**, you can't flush I tried, she givin blow jobs so I must apply/ You a lame, you can't justify, no caterpillars, doors bu*terfly/ Don't compare with the other guy, like KFC I get a bunch of thighs/ Like Mississippi I get a bunch of I's, you don't get it ketchup like what come with fries/ people think I had s** on an airplane, why, cause I'm f**in fly/ Hook: She got style like a muthaf**a (6x) She got a body like a muthaf**a (6x) Verse 3 - Y.O. Okay so style is what you teachin, body language dats what you speakin/ Well let me begin, you should pretend dat I'm yo man for da weekend/ Blow da whistle like a reach-in, finest hoes she beat dem/ Pockets gotta be deep in for dem designer clothes dat she be in/ Honor roll was her peak den, baddest chick comin from her cla**/ Now when I get to peepin, look like her a** grew anotha a**/ And you ain't have to ask, her face fine she k**in ooo/ Lovin da way you dance you say no hands but I'm still feelin you/ Drinks, get me billed for 2 or mo', I might need a few of those/ B.A.D. girl wit no tv show, she skipped dat for a movie role/ Bougie hoes just don't compare, dem Serena thighs so cutthroat/ I'm tellin ya chicks standin next to her, get overlooked, short folk/ Of course though, but no coarse hair, and her body look better in sportswear/ She got dem shorts where, dey show a lot of skin n got her own crib wit a Porsche der/ Porsche there, she winnin, tryna study her like its forensics/ Got me training like its the Olympics just to get next, next, like an apprentice/ Hook: She got style like a muthaf**a (6x) She got a body like a muthaf**a (6x)