Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Nudy
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Quantavious T. Thomas
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Banned
Producer
Lyrics
Let's play (Oops)
Let's play
(Aye man, you know what the fuck goin' on with me, ****?)
Okay
(That is somethin' about that young ass right there)
(That thottie over there)
Yeah, huh
Yeah, playin' with my nutsack (Uh-huh)
Scratchin' on this crack where I had to hide my Glock at
Cops tryin' to catch me, I might pop that (Pop, pop)
Fuck 'em, tryna catch 'em down bad
Where them opps at? (Ooh-wee)
**** tryna catch me slippin'
****, I'm gon' empty (Empty)
Got that Glock on me
You know that bitch there hold 'bout fifty (Uh-huh)
Pull up on these ****
Yeah, that bullshit, know I'm with it (I'm with it)
And I love these freaky hoes
Slimeball, he love these bitches (Bitches)
Where them nat nat-nat-nats?
Come and give me neck, neck (Neck, neck, uh)
I just wanna hit you front he back and slap that, uh (Slap that)
I just want some head, lil' momma
Might give you some bread (The bread)
Later on I'm gone, bitch, don't call my phone, uh-huh
(Don't call my phone)
Mister Slimeball the boss like Corleone (Big boss)
Uh-huh
I get a **** shot, get a **** gone (Gone)
Uh-huh
All about that money
All of my **** 'bout they skrilla (Skrilla)
Catch a **** down bad
Ooh, young **** gone and kill 'em (Get that)
We don't play with nobody
Everybody 'bout catchin' a body ('Bout catchin' a body)
Bodies (Bodies)
On bodies (Bodies)
****, we'll kill everybody (Uh-huh)
All these **** talkin' 'bout it
They ain't 'bout it (You ain't about it)
Feel like Master P
But I really want big bank **** (Big bank)
Pull up on these lame ass **** in that tank **** (A tank)
Got yo' bitch on my dick
Yeah, she faint **** (Woo-ooh)
When she see the Slimeball, bitch it's boss (It's boss)
You know these hoes love to lick my balls (My balls)
Yeah
(Y'all **** just muhfuckin' stinky)
Scratchin' on my nutsack
Yeah, bitch
(Tell 'em, slime)
Okay
(But they don't like that)
Yeah
(So fuck)
Hmm-mmm
Okay
Soon I came in, I had my motherfuckin' mask on (Mask on)
**** tried to move, fuck that shit, he got blast on (Blow)
Told that pussy **** he bet' not fuckin' move (Don't move)
First **** move, I'ma give his ass the blues (Blues)
Twelve lookin' for me
Slimeball didn't leave no clues (Uh-uh)
Yellow tape, closed case
Make his momma faint (Uh-huh)
Murder rate raised up
Bitch, I'm from EA (EA)
You know how I play (I play)
Rob a AK-47 EA (EA)
Shoot a motherfucker in his face
Ooh, that's a cold case (Cold case)
I don't really play with these **** (No way)
I just spray at these **** (Say what?)
I be ridin' through these streets
With that K with me **** (And what?)
Ain't nobody fuckin' safe, ****
Run up in yo' house, empty the safe, ****
(What else, slime?)
I don't know
Yeah, ****
(Okay, fuck it, fuck it)
Yeah
Yeah, ****
(I ain't got nothin' to do with what the fuck goin' on)
Back in the kitchen
Yeah, we countin' up this skrilla (Skrilla)
Rippin' up this cocaine, me and all my **** (My ****)
All these motherfuckin' convicted felons
We flexin' on these **** (Flexin')
Why they flexin', why they motherfuckin' stressin'? (Ooh-wee)
All this goddamn money
I swear to God, God gave me a blessin' (Blessin')
I be flexin' on these ****
No fraud (Fraud)
I be fuckin' all these bitches (Bitches)
More broads (Broads)
You ain't gettin' no money **** (What?)
You're a fraud (Huh)
Huh
(Damn)
What else, what else ho?
What else?
I don't what else
Fake it, fake it, let's do it
(Bermuda shit, get you killed out in the street)
Ok, yeah, I like that
Bermuda shit ****
Get you killed out here in these streets
Bitch
That's on gang, bitch
Yeah, ****
Yeah, huh
Itchy nutsack
What the fuck happened to the rest of it?
That was it?
Written by: Quantavious Thomas

