Tag: Plain Jane


T-Wayne – Fuck Russ Lyrics




[Intro]
[?] on that beat
Yeah, foreign, foreign, foreign

[Verse 1]
I told em, fuck Russ
You ain’t shit
You a bitch
Diamond wrist, peep the drip
Water whip, Plain Jane, new Mulsanne
Shorty wanna give me brain, cuz the fame (yea, yea)
I’m coming live and direct
I got you niggas upset
Hoping out the private jet, got your bitch wet
Snake on my belt, lookin like a new pet
Cut my ex off, need a new thang
Copped a new chain and a pinky ring
Southwest airline, that’s a plain jane
I just dropped a bag and the Blue Flame

[Chorus]
I want the new Ferrari
I want the Plain Jane
I want the presidential Rollie
She want the whole gang (gang, gang)
She a little freak she’ll bust it
Diamonds real cold like Russia
Told lil bitch don’t touch it
Young, rich, came up from nothing
I want the new Ferrari
I want the Plain Jane
I want the presidential Rollie
She want the whole gang (gang, gang)
She a little freak she’ll bust it
Diamonds real cold like Russia
Told lil bitch don’t touch it
Young, rich, came up from nothing

[Verse 2]
I’m hoppin off of a jet
I’m on a run for a check
I gotta flex
I put your bitch in a vette
Runnin up plays like I’m Brett
I got her wet
I got my gun like a sketch
Keep that bitch I ain’t impressed
Don’t give a damn bout my ex
Fuck on her friend and I jet
I want Patek Phillipe
I got my choppa on me
I fuck around in the suite
I be feelin like skreets, bitch I be geeked
Light up the sweet in a suite
I be ridin’ a foreign
You know the engine be roarin’
I’m outta space like the orbit
The whip gotta horsey
You would think it was Ralph Lauren
I’m on the track like Jeff Gordon, yea

[Chorus]
I want the new Ferrari
I want the Plain Jane
I want the presidential Rollie
She want the whole gang (gang, gang)
She a little freak she’ll bust it
Diamonds real cold like Russia
Told lil bitch don’t touch it
Young, rich, came up from nothing
I want the new Ferrari
I want the Plain Jane
I want the presidential Rollie
She want the whole gang (gang, gang)
She a little freak she’ll bust it
Diamonds real cold like Russia
Told lil bitch don’t touch it
Young, rich, came up from nothing




A$AP Ferg – Kristi YamaGucci Lyrics




[Intro: NickNPattiWhack]
Aw lord baby, she got a flip phone
Damn baby, I been smokin’
Been chokin’ and its so potent baby, we high baby
And you got the silver Gucci by my man Ferg, baby
You a giant baby, you steppin’ on these niggas’ necks
Sometimes you gotta just ease that left foot off baby
And then put your right foot on the, on the top of them, baby
And choke them even harder
‘Cause you’s a dawg, you’s fuckin’ champ, these are puppies baby
They can’t fuck with you baby, lord

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Racks on racks on racks, Dapper Dan all on my back
Double G all on my cap, monogram on a Maybach
Testin’ that pussy like Pap (smear), eatin’ that bitch from the back (yeah)
Mumble rap all on that cat (yeah), [Lil Pump?] she makin’ it clap
I’m ’bout to write Yammy a letter, tell ’em I’m doin’ way better
“Plain Jane” the song of the year, I’m busy just chasin’ the lettuce
I’ma Calvin Klein model on billboards, I did a campaign with the fellas
Adidas done gave me another deal and Hennessy too, they got cheddar (alright)
Shoot videos in the PJs, then I go hop on a PJ (yeah)
They sendin’ me all these free clothes, momma just put it on eBay
I run the shit like a relay, niggas gon’ have to press replay
Yammy say hi to my daddy for me and Jam Master Jay for TJ

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Goddamn, nigga
When it be raining outside nigga, you the umbrella
‘Cause that shit just bounce off you with that Gucci
God, nigga I’ma call you Kristi YamaGucci, baby
‘Cause you just all over the fuckin’ world with this shit, baby
Niggas cannot touch you

[Verse 2: Denzel Curry]
Trench coat mob is a Go-Go Gadget
You don’t wanna see a pretty scene get drastic
Fuckin’ with the lords, no Frodo Baggins
Niggas bring your clothes to the screen like a fat bitch
Even though my name is Denzel, no actin’
Pap-pap, puttin’ everything inside a casket
Track that, everything is gonna be a classic
Wrap that, put that bitch inside a prophylactic
When I’m rappin’, got no hard-on, double tappin’
From a city built on coke and pistol-packin’
See you flaggin’ and they packin’ what you lackin’
Take you out and then they act like nothin’ happen
Amnesia, got rid of the heater
Back in the hood where they blowin’ on reefer
I follow the light while you follow the leader
Now a nigga overseas where they checkin’ my Visa, look

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Nah baby, what kinda flip phone you got?
Is that a Nextel baby, Chirp baby
This nigga got a Boost, baby, what the fuck
Nigga, you gotta step it up
You need to get you a trap phone
You need to get one of these fuckin’ Motorolas
Niggas can’t even track us, baby

[Verse 3: IDK]
Finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, dunk, yeah
Ballin’ on my enemies, I ain’t even tyin’ up to punks
Imagine when I tie ’em up, yeah
I shake ’em, they gon’ need a crutch, yeah
And I ain’t talkin’ groupie bitches when I say they got their panties in a bunch
I’m talkin’ niggas, I ain’t talkin’ nada
They ain’t talkin’ figures, gotta be six, seven or better
Tryna get a house, gotta get my bread up
Tryna stay on pace? you gon’ have to step up
Cruisin’ in a Wraith, see if they make a get-up
Pull up to the place, fucked her when we met up
Yeah, I’m gettin’ buzz, but I never let up
I ain’t seen a doctor, but I got my check up, check up, check up, check up, check up
I’m playin’ chess, you stuck on checkers
That’s why your gang can never check us
They take your chain, and now you neck-less
Check up, check up, check up, check up
I got a check on my watch (wait)
I’m losin’ track of time ’cause I don’t hear tick or no tock (yeah)


G Herbo – My Way Lyrics


[Intro]
Uh huh
Aye
Damn, hol’ on
What the fuck? Who the fuck is this?
Hol’ on
Aye
Aye

[Verse 1]
IPhone goin’ off
Press decline, hit the power button just to throw it off
Annoyin’ ass lil’ bitch keep texting me
I hate a know-it-all
I hit bitches ASAP on the first night I don’t know at all
And if you think this shit got them sick, wait ’til I show it all
50K, I put that on my wrist, ain’t have no glow at all
Plain Jane, sky dweller
Get that money now or never
Got that chick, you know I’m gangster
What I do? Go buy a bezel
And I’m out here by my lonely
One up on me, niggas can’t get one up on me
Run up on me, ain’t gotta cock it, one up on me
Get a little cocky, big bro told me, nigga, you chosen
Bad enough I say “I’m broke”, everybody be like “Nigga you hoeing”
I can’t lie, I’m holdin’
I can’t fold it, rubber band to hold it
Now I’m out in [La Postolle?] rollin’, in my flipflops strollin’
Still got paranoia, I’m off [?] lookin’ off my shoulder
Book me for a show, I ain’t gon’ go unless you get my pole in

[Chorus]
Bitches love me
‘Cause they love gangsters
Gettin’ money
This that Palm Angels
This a hurdle
Issa 30
It’s Lil Herbo
Two door, swervin’
Aye, aye
And I have my way
Aye, aye
And I have my way
Aye, aye
And I have my way
And I have my way
Yeah, I have my way

[Verse 2]
Aye, bitch I have my way
Yeah I drive i8s
And I’m still [?]
Still’ll take fly on the jakes
Let a fuck nigga try and invade my home
Chopper shell right in the face
I secure my chain like a iPhone
Fingerprint right on the safe
Got girl scouts straight from the bay
Gucci shirt came from the A
Used to sip lean by the case
Thought it make the pain go away
I was high, fuck around, caught a case
Then them fights ain’t still go away
So far I gave my lawyer 8K, but that shit I make that rain in a day
Bitches love me
‘Cause they love gangsters
I bought all of that Balmain, this that Palm Angels
She got all of that [?], swallow all I came
These hoes be actin’ like they thang but they all basic

[Chorus]
Bitches love me
‘Cause they love gangsters
Gettin’ money
This that Palm Angels
This a hurdle
Issa 30
It’s Lil Herbo
Two door, swervin’
Aye, aye
And I have my way
Aye, aye
And I have my way
Aye, aye
And I have my way
And I have my way
Yeah, I have my way


Maxo Kream – Bussdown


[Intro]
Maxo, Bussdown
Maxo, Bussdown
Set it up
Break it down
Wrap it up
Wear it up
Bust it down
Open up
Vacuum seal

[Chorus]
Trappin’ in the vaco it’s a bussdown (that what we do)
Got it in her whole name, she’s a bussdown (she a)
We don’t even serve here, we just bust down (uh uh)
Got my shooters on the roof, gon’ make them bussdown
Trap out the bag, that’s a bussdown
Run through the grass like a touchdown
Plain Jane with it, no bussdown
Try and take my chain, I’ma bussdown
Bussdown (set it up)
Bussdown (break it down)
Bussdown (wrap it up)
Bussdown (wear it up)
Thirty rounds (bust it down)
Fifty rounds (open up)
Hundred rounds (vacuum seal)
Gun ’em down

[Verse 1]
Stay ten toes I’m down (ten toes)
Jenny Craig with them pounds (get ’em off)
Diamonds dance like Chris Brown (Chris Breezy)
Look at my water, don’t drown (Fiji)
Neck wet like baptized (church)
MJ with the 4-5 (fadeaway)
Trap house strapped, no bugee (say what?)
Wrappin’ up a pack like a mummy (uh huh)
Two for the [?], serve junkies (trap)
Serve purp’ fake to a dummy (rookie)
Got a lot of young crash dummies (uh huh)
[?] rap with your tummy
Trap out the vaco apartment
I move the dope in abundance (bussdown)
Bussdown the quarters and onions
I split the pot like circumference

[Chorus]
Trappin’ in the vaco it’s a bussdown (that what we do)
Got it in her whole name, she’s a bussdown (she a)
We don’t even serve here, we just bussdown (uh uh)
Got my shooters on the roof, gon’ make them bussdown
Trap out the bag, that’s a bussdown
Run through the grass like a touchdown
Plain Jane with it, no bussdown
Try and take my chain, I’ma bussdown
Bussdown (set it up)
Bussdown (break it down)
Bussdown (wrap it up)
Bussdown (wear it up)
Thirty rounds (bust it down)
Fifty rounds (open up)
Hundred rounds (vacuum seal)
Gun ’em down

[Verse 2]
[?]
Trust my decoratin’ (what else?)
Joysticks like PlayStation
Sellin’ gas like station (unleaded)
Can’t keep my clients waitin’ (woah)
My patients impatient (wo-woah)
Karo marinated (remix)
Pounds in the basement ([?])
Chickens in the den
Pigeons in the kitchen
Quarter birds in hand
Clip holds three times ten
Hurricane chopper [?]
Guns got [?] like shanaynay
Servin’ them clucks, no rooster (ay)
Throwin’ them ‘bows like Luda’ (woah)
Chop Backwoods like timber (ay)
I mow the grass like a gardener (uh huh)
I pass the gas like I farted (excuse me)
Handicap Crippin’ retarded (retarded)
My shooter he dumb, he retarded (Cuh-rip)
Cold with the tommy like Martin (uh huh)
Break it down
Pick it up
Set it up
Bring it back

[Chorus]
Trappin’ in the vaco it’s a bussdown (that what we do)
Got it in her whole name, she’s a bussdown (she a)
We don’t even serve here, we just bust down (uh uh)
Got my shooters on the roof, gon’ make them bussdown
Trap out the bag, that’s a bussdown
Run through the grass like a touchdown
Plain Jane with it, no bussdown
Try and take my chain, I’ma bussdown
Bussdown (set it up)
Bussdown (break it down)
Bussdown (wrap it up)
Bussdown (wear it up)
Thirty rounds (bust it down)
Fifty rounds (open up)
Hundred rounds (vacuum seal)
Gun ’em down


Chris Brown – High End (feat. Future & Young Thug)


[Intro: Future]
High end, yeah
You know, what we doin’ (what)
I’m set, slatt, set, gang, set

[Verse 1: Future]
I’m on a high end (jet)
I’m ’bout to fly in (set)
Hop in a Cayenne (skrrt)
I was just glidin’ (I was just glidin’)
I just be stylin’ (stylin’, style)
I’m on a high end (I’m on a high)
I’m on a fly end (eh, yeah)
We ’bout to fly in (yeah, ooh)
Jump in the Cayenne (jump in the Cayenne)
Jump in the Cayenne (skrrt, skrrt)
Ran out of mileage (ran out of mileage)
Gotta go find it (gotta go find it)
Sit next to a thotty (sit next to a thotty)
In a big body (in a big body)
Juug set Wu-Tang (juug set Wu-Tang)
We like Shaolin (we like Shaolin)
What’s the total? (yeah, yeah)
What’s the list read?
Rockin’ Balenci’ (rockin’ Balenci’)
Whippin’ up big B’s (whip up big B’s)
What’s the total?
What’s the list read?
Plain Jane watch, Richard Mille (yeah)
Richard Mille cost me ’bout an Aston-Martin
Left my Tesla sittin’ at the house on the charge
I just met the owners of Chanel and Diadora
‘Cause they say I’m spendin’ too much money in the stores
Pluto

[Verse 2: Chris Brown]
Haha
Everything high end (high end)
I whip the Masi’ (Masi’)
I pop a half a perc (half a perc)
Make a deposit (‘posit)
I am not from the Earth (from the Earth)
Stay on my fly shit (fly shit)
I’m flyin’ private (private)
On my Dubai shit (‘bai shit)
On a Ducati, stuntin’ on ’em
All of you niggas my little homies
Here’s some knowledge for you
Stop tryna wife a thot bitch
All the vampires know that we don’t go to sleep
We stay up all night, pop me two or three, pill exotic type
Everything high end, you see the stars
And my Richard Mille cost more than your car
Everything high end (high end)
Everything high end (high end)
And you fake, nigga (fake, nigga)
Should retire (retire)
And you fuck niggas (fuck niggas)
Should get fired up (fired up)
Don’t fuck with Fed niggas (Fed niggas)
They be wired up (wired up)

[Interlude: Future]
Pluto
Everything high end

[Verse 3: Young Thug]
Uh (pew, pew)
I wanna bargain (on God)
‘Bout to hit Khaled (yeah)
I want an X pill (uh)
I want a molly (uh)
I’ma get seasick (seasick)
From these diamonds (from these diamonds)
Eyes locked in (uh huh)
I would climb in (let’s get it)
She ’bout to climax (yeah)
Put the doors in knap sacks (snacks)
Put some ice on a basic bitch (put some ice on a basic bitch)
Put some hundreds in gem clips (look like a thotty)
Freaky in my car (yeah)
Maybach seat massage (skrrt, skrrt)
Backseat turn to bump (yeah)
Security outside like a guard (damn)
Securin’ my spot, I’m a dog (secure)
Securin’ the spot like a guard (secure the spot)
I’m a big B like a wasp (uh)
Can’t come to me, I’m a boss (yeah)
400 racks on my car (uh)
Got a old mink on the floor (damn)
King Tut gotta say it’s old (auction)
Spend a milli’ at a store (to get tags)
Got my wrist like King Tut’s (now go get that)
Caught my first body, I was a man from there (yeah)
Nigga tried to take my money, I left his ass in there
Then hopped inside the Jag, I did the dash, you know that (skrrt)
I ain’t gon’ stay on no scene, I let my lawyer handle that (yeah)
Get it
Everything high end (uh)
I see it, it’s mine then (I got it)
I like it, I bought it (it’s mine)
I’m wet up like faucets
Catch up to not get
We don’t let bygones be bygones


Chris Brown – High End Lyrics


[Intro: Future]
High end, yeah
You know, what we doin’ (what)
I’m set, slatt, set, gang, set

[Verse 1: Future]
I’m on a high end (jet)
I’m ’bout to fly in (set)
Hop in a Cayenne (skrrt)
I was just glidin’ (I was just glidin’)
I just be stylin’ (stylin’, style)
I’m on a high end (I’m on a high)
I’m on a fly end (eh, yeah)
We ’bout to fly in (yeah, ooh)
Jump in the Cayenne (jump in the Cayenne)
Jump in the Cayenne (skrrt, skrrt)
Ran out of mileage (ran out of mileage)
Gotta go find it (gotta go find it)
Sit next to a thotty (sit next to a thotty)
In a big body (in a big body)
Juug set Wu-Tang (juug set Wu-Tang)
We like Shaolin (we like Shaolin)
Bust down Tony (yeah, yeah)
Bust down [?] (bust down [?])
Rockin’ Balenci’ (rockin’ Balenci’)
Whippin’ up big B’s (whip up big B’s)
What’s the total?
What’s the list read?
Plain Jane watch, Richard Mille (yeah)
Richard Mille cost me ’bout an Aston-Martin
Left my Tesla sittin’ at the house on the charge
I just met the owners of Chanel and Diadora
‘Cause they say I’m spendin’ too much money in the stores
Pluto

[Verse 2: Chris Brown]
Haha
Everything high end (high end)
I whip the Masi’ (Masi’)
I pop a half a perc (half a perc)
Make a deposit (‘posit)
I am not from the Earth (from the Earth)
Stay on my fly shit (fly shit)
I’m flyin’ private (private)
On my Dubai shit (‘bai shit)
On a Ducati, stuntin’ on ’em
All of you niggas my little homies
Here’s some knowledge for you
Stop tryna wife a thot bitch
All the vampires know that we don’t go to sleep
We stay up all night, pop me two or three, pill exotic type
Everything high end, you see the stars
And my Richard Mille cost more than your car
Everything high end (high end)
Everything high end (high end)
And you fake, nigga (fake, nigga)
Should retire (retire)
And you fuck niggas (fuck niggas)
Should get fired up (fired up)
Don’t fuck with Fed niggas (Fed niggas)
They be wired up (wired up)

[Interlude: Future]
Pluto
Everything high end

[Verse 3: Young Thug]
Uh (pew, pew)
I wanna bargain (on God)
‘Bout to hit Khaled (yeah)
I want an X pill (uh)
I want a molly (uh)
I’ma get seasick (seasick)
From these diamonds (from these diamonds)
Eyes locked in (uh huh)
I would climb in (let’s get it)
She ’bout to climax (yeah)
Put the doors in knap sacks (snacks)
Put some ice on a basic bitch (put some ice on a basic bitch)
Put some hundreds in gem clips (look like a thotty)
Freaky in my car (yeah)
Maybach seat massage (skrrt, skrrt)
Backseat turn to bump (yeah)
Security outside like a guard (damn)
Securin’ my spot, I’m a dog (secure)
Securin’ the spot like a guard (secure the spot)
I’m a big B like a wasp (uh)
Can’t come to me, I’m a boss (yeah)
400 racks on my car (uh)
Got a old mink on the floor (damn)
King Tut gotta say it’s old (auction)
Spend a milli’ at a store (to get tags)
Got my wrist like King Tut’s (now go get that)
Caught my first body, I was a man from there (yeah)
Nigga tried to take my money, I left his ass in there
Then hopped inside the Jag, I did the dash, you know that (skrrt)
I ain’t gon’ stay on no scene, I let my lawyer handle that (yeah)
Get it
Everything high end (uh)
I see it, it’s mine then (I got it)
I like it, I bought it (it’s mine)
I’m wet up like faucets
Catch up to not get
We don’t let bygones be bygones


Future – I’m So Groovy (Future Album)


[Intro]
I am Pluto
Never forget, never forget
Okay

[Chrous]
I’m so groovy
I got power
I’m so groovy
I got power
That’s your bitch?
I just bought her
Oh that’s your bitch
I just bought her

[Post-Chorus]
Percs and molly
Plain Jane
I just fucked her face
I don’t know her name

[Verse 1]
Tom Brady, Tony Snow
I just backdoored your ho
Goin’ brazy at the jeweler
I just suicide my doors
Candy yams in the ‘partment
Living like Nino
I just come here, let me breathe
VVS’s on my sleeves
Pure molly, codeine
Blind your eye with my ring
You ain’t ever gon’ to see me
I get Stella McCartney
High fashion
John Madden
Bisex
No relation
Bought the jet
60K
Austin Power
M.I.A
Steven Seagal
Hard to kill
Stuff cigars
Hide your broad
She photoshopped
I’m photogenic
I just bent the Bentley
Did a U-turn
Duck the cops
Serving rocks
Made it to the top, uh huh
Fucking going platinum

[Chrous]
I’m so groovy
I got power
I’m so groovy
I got power
That’s your bitch?
I just bought her
Oh that’s your bitch
I just bought her

[Post-Chorus]
Percs and molly
Plain Jane
I just fucked her face
I don’t know her name

[Verse 2]
I’m the last don, I’m the last con
Done turned it up to an icon
Pimpin’ hoes nigga ugh
Thoughts exposed niggas huh
Paper tags on the yacht
I just smashed in the clouds
Thousand bags in the clouds
Louis rag, wipe me down
Cash king on a clown
So prestigious, so profound
Cash cloud, let me live
50 cars at the crib
Private dinners on the leer
VTS’s when I steer
Instant glam on my ear
Outer space when I appear
Promethazine in my seal
A yellow bone in the rear
Dopple god, I’m in here
Fuck your squad, they some queers
My conversation bringing mills to ya
I get my brother bring the bail to ya
Killas on the right and the left to ya
Gang gang, whatever’s left of ya

[Chrous]
I’m so groovy
I got power
I’m so groovy
I got power
That’s your bitch?
I just bought her
Oh that’s your bitch
I just bought her

[Post Chorus]
Percs and molly
Plain Jane
I just fucked her face
I don’t know her name
I don’t know her name
(I don’t know her name)

[Verse 3]
Sitting in the vert
Got a lotta dirt
Courtroom flow
Now I’m sitting courtside with your ho
Addy’s work miracles
Benji’s subliminals
Uptown Lenox
All about the Benji’s
Pour a little Henny
Totin’ the semi
Making love with my diamonds on
Diamonds on honeycomb
Hit ’em with the stick
I just copped the deuce
Syrup like Denny’s
Bitch brown like a penny
Total it up in one minute
Out of the country all hidden
Playing in with the trenches in a suit
Armani got me with the juice
Made a bad bitch my masseuse
Take a little stress off the crew

[Chrous]
I’m so groovy
I got power
I’m so groovy
I got power
That’s your bitch?
I just bought her
Oh that’s your bitch
I just bought her

[Post Chorus]
Percs and molly
Plain Jane
I just fucked her face
I don’t know her name
I don’t know her name
(I don’t know her name)


Lil Bibby – You Ain’t Gang (Remix) (feat. Lil Durk, Dej Loaf & Kevin Gates)


[Intro: Lil Bibby]
Hey
Why they hatin’ on a youngin’?
Said why they hatin’ on a youngin’?

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
Nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
You can’t hang, nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
Nigga you can’t hang, you can’t hang, hang
You can’t, you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang

[Verse 1: Lil Bibby]
Bitch I’m an OG, but I’m quick to pull it like a youngin’
In my pockets, all hundreds, run up on me, bitch I’m drummin’
I was thuggin’ on the corner with my niggas, came from nothin’
Fuck these bitches, I don’t trust ’em, I’m a dog, fuck her cousin
They like, "Goddamn Bibby why you still on that block shit?"
Get you shot quick ’round them niggas I don’t rock with
I seen niggas turned Christian when they feel that hot shit
Thought you was a savage, now you on that Lord watch shit
Give a fuck if you box well, I got hot shells
Drop Ls, pull up back to back and give your block hell
Pistol whip your kids, I’m a demon, I’ma rot in Hell
Do the time, I will not tell like I’m Vondell

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
Nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
You can’t hang, nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
Nigga you can’t hang, you can’t hang, hang
You can’t, you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang

[Verse 2: Lil Durk]
Why you floss, pussy you ain’t squad, pussy you ain’t hard
Catch a charge bitch I’m like a God, Vernie pulled his car
Crackin’ calls, boy I’d get you robbed, 100 thousand law
Think I’m smart get that baby lost, like my lean dart
ATL, pull up we in dark heard you was a cop, you a opp
Flexin’ boy don’t start dracos in the car
Me I’m Durk, city hate me worst think they hate me first, it’s a curse
Now it’s me and DeJ, 40 in the purse pussy try us
Yo’ IG a liar got the streets on light
2 times, say it 2 times bitch I am a fire
Plain Jane, fuckin’ with the town call ’em Mary Jane
Street nigga yeah we gang gang let the chain hang (Gang!)

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
Nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
You can’t hang, nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
Nigga you can’t hang, you can’t hang, hang
You can’t, you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang

[Verse 3: DeJ Loaf]
Who’s cuz came with ’em?
Who’s blood came with ’em?
See them niggas right there, them thugs right there
Go ‘head I’d dare ya
All that talkin’ don’t scare me
We ain’t ask you no questions
We don’t need no answers
Them niggas hoes for real
I’m gettin’ dope for real
Bitch think she bad
This boss for real
We know you talk for real can’t hang with me and my double rings
What they gon’ with us
Niggas ain’t foolin’ us
Choppa with the clip tell me who to bust
Close the door, pull up and ring the doorbell
It’s a full mink, not a Montclair
You a fuckin’ worm and I’m a boss player

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
Nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
You can’t hang, nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
Nigga you can’t hang, you can’t hang, hang
You can’t, you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang

[Verse 4: Kevin Gates]
We don’t run, I’m in charge
Cooked this sauce, sellin’ hard
Went to jail I got off
You was scared to walk the yard
On a big stand on all tens
Caught me drinkin’ (?)
Iron power push a lot of weight
Naw hah you had thought
Breakin’ down a whole thang ain’t got to stretch it any questions
Ball faze bought for all the Js and I’m ’bout to bless ’em
Female entertainers wanna fuck with gangsta, you ain’t special
No karate thord kick spent the TEC with the suppressor
Breadwinner Mafia stiffin’ up all Benz
Slide polo road swag I’m makin’ bags with a business
Action passing extension and they actin’ as a convinct
John Gotti body go in body bag he can zip
Tellscope go on top of the rifle they think I’m triflin’
Put ballfield cleats go to lockin’ in like arthritis
Pussy shit uninvited how wrong for no invitements
(?) twistin’ (?) on landlords
60 racks slipped, bullshit in the backyard

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
Nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
You can’t hang, nigga you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
Nigga you can’t hang, you can’t hang, hang
You can’t, you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang

[Outro: Lil Bibby]
You can’t hang, nigga, nigga, you ain’t gang
You can’t hang, hang
You already know, man
Boss gang shit
Gang


Lil Bibby feat. Kevin Gates, DeJ Loaf & Lil Durk – You Ain’t Gang (Remix) Lyrics


(Intro – Lil Bibby)
Hey
Why they hating on a younging?
Said why they hating on a younging?

(Chorus – Lil Bibby)
Ni**a you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
You can’t hang, ni**a you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang
Ni**a you can’t hang, you can’t hang, hang
You can’t, you can’t hang, you ain’t gang, gang

(Verse 1 – Lil Bibby)
Bitch I’m an OG, but I’m quick to pull it like a younging
In my pockets, all hundreds, run up on me, bi**h I’m drumming
I was thugging on the corner with my ni**as, came from nothing
F**k these bi**hes, I don’t trust em, I’m a dog, f**k her cousin
They like, Goddamn Bibby why you still on that block s**t?
Get you shot quick round them ni**as I don’t rock with
I seen ni**as turned Christian when they feel that hot s**t
Thought you was a savage, now you on that Lord watch s**t
Give a f**k if you box well, I got hot shells
Drop Ls, pull up back to back and give your block hell
Pistol whip your kids, I’m a demon, I’ma rot in Hell
Do the time, I will not tell like I’m Vondell

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 2 – Lil Durk)
Why you floss, pu**y you ain’t squad, pu**y you ain’t hard
Catch a charge bi**h I’m like a God, Vernie pulled his car
Cracking calls, boy I’d get you robbed, 100 thousand law
Think I’m smart get that baby lost, like my lean dart
ATL, pull up we in dark heard you was a cop, you a opp
Flexing boy don’t start dracos in the car
Me I’m Durk, city hate me worst think they hate me first, it’s a curse
Now it’s me and DeJ, 40 in the purse pussy try us
Yo IG a liar got the streets on light
2 times, say it 2 times bi**h I am a fire
Plain Jane, f**king with the town call em Mary Jane
Street ni**a yeah we gang gang let the chain hang Gang!

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 3 – DeJ Loaf)
Who’s cuz came with em?
Who’s blood came with em?
Seen them ni**as right there, them thugs right there
Go head I’d dare ya
All that talking don’t scare me
We ain’t ask you no questions
Cause we don’t need no answers
Them niggas saucing for real
I’m getting dope for real
This bi**h she bad
This boss for real
We know you talk for real can’t hang with me and my double rings
What they gon with us
Ni**as ain’t fooling us
Choppa with the clip tell me who to bust
Close the door, pull up and ring the doorbell
It’s a full mink, not a Montclair
You a f**king worm and I’m a boss player

(Verse 4 – Kevin Gates)
We don’t run, I’m in charge
Cooked this sauce, selling hard
Went to jail I got off
You was scared to walk the yard
On a big stand on all tens
Caught me drinking
Iron power push a lot of weight
Naw hah you had thought
Breaking down a whole thang ain’t got to stretch it any questions
Ball faze bought for all the Js and I’m bout to bless em
Female entertainers wanna f**k with gangsta, you ain’t special
No karate thord kick spent the TEC with the suppressor
Bread when I’m Mafia stiffing up all Benz
Slide polo road swag I’m making bags with a business
Action passing extension and they acting as a convinct
John Gotti body go in body bag he can zip
Tellscope go on top of the rifle they think I’m trifling
Put ballfield cleats go to locking in like arthritis
Pu**y s**t uninvited how wrong for no invitements
Twisting….on landlords
60 racks slipped, bullshit in the backyard

(Outro – Lil Bibby)
You can’t hang, ni**a, ni**a, you ain’t gang
You can’t hang, hang
You already know, man
Boss gang s**t
Gang