YoungBoy Never Broke Again - Homicide lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Homicide Lyrics

YoungBoy Never Broke Again – Homicide Lyrics

Yeah, to fuck with me you lucky and you know it
(And you know that)
Put your phone up, bitch, you tweekin', tryin' to record
(Bitch you tweekin`)
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
(Man I saw it)
They throwin' shots, ain't hittin' shit, trying my best to ignore it
(Tryna ignore it)
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off (Hoe tryna get off)
He tryna get udner my skin and diss me he tryna get off
(Bitch tryna get off)
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off
(Why ain't you get off?)
I catch my main it ain't no question, I'ma get off, hey, hey

Yellow bitch, yellow diamonds, ooh, I'm pissed off
The way she love me and fuck me, ooh she gettin' off
He talking hard, approach him, watch how fast he get soft
Rapid fire, nuttin' stopping, choppers lettin' off (Braap brrap)
If I catch you, I'm gettin' off (Gettin' off)
I'm tryna knock your whole shit off (Knock your whole shit off)
You and your mans too, I'll drop the bag on the whole crew (Whole crew, whole crew)
Ben be suffocating, the hunnids they all blue (Why you say that? All blue)
I'm on a whole 'nother level, the bitches, they all knew
Speaking of bitches
A bitch be tryna get off on Instagram
'Cause I fell back (Fell Back)
Why you ain't make a post how you fucked the clique?
Bitch, go tell dat
These rappers tryna sneak diss, tryna get off to get on, huh?
Catch their ass in public, they gon' get right and get gone

To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
(And you know that)
Put your phone up, bitch, you tweekin', tryin' to record
(Bitch you tweekin`)
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
(Man I saw it)
They throwin' shots, ain't hittin' shit, trying my best to ignore it
(Tryna ignore it)
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off (Hoe tryna get off)
He tryna get udner my skin and diss me he tryna get off
(Bitch tryna get off)
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off
(Why ain't you get off?)
I catch my main it ain't no question, I'ma get off, hey, hey

Before the rap money, young niggas was ballin' way before it (Way before it)
I don't do no talkin', I drop a bag on 'em lil' nigga you know it (Lil' nigga you know it)
I bought me a pint of that Hi-tech I crack it and then I pour it (I crack it, I pour it)
I crunch up the eights, and numb up my mouth, you know that I throw it
She all in my session, she steady keep pissin', but no, she don't know it
When I'm up in Texas, I ride with that Wesson just me and my boy
I swear it's controlling me, 17 got four sons
Tryna go cop me 'bout 44 foreigns
Studio on the bus I'm touring
I swear, I don't put no level in these songs
Every nigga pissed off mad at me and bet they gone
Grab my own gun, I'ma hold it down
No I won't flock, I keep it strong
These bitches be aching
I steady be waiting
So when I'm recording, don't call my phone

To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
(And you know that)
Put your phone up, bitch, you tweekin', tryin' to record
(Bitch you tweekin`)
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
(Man I saw it)
They throwin' shots, ain't hittin' shit, trying my best to ignore it
(Tryna ignore it)
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off (Hoe tryna get off)
He tryna get udner my skin and diss me he tryna get off
(Bitch tryna get off)
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off
(Why ain't you get off?)
I catch my main it ain't no question, I'ma get off
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Songwriters: Kentrell Gaulden, Demario Dewayne White
Homicide lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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