Uh-Huh

(808 Mafia)

Uh-huh, ayy, uh, uh-huh

The reason why I'm out on my grind

I'm not gon'-, bitch I'm not the one, bitch I'm not the one, bitch I'm not the one, ayy

Never leave the house without my gun, never leave the house without my gun

I ain't lookin' for trouble, but I'm not the one, not the one, uh-huh

Do I got cash? Uh-huh, I check a bag, uh-huh

Designer my jeans, uh-huh, they don't sag, uh-huh

Niggas mad, uh-huh, got my mag, uh-huh

Try to hate on me, I leave you in the past, uh-huh

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

She asked if I'm runnin', I told that bitch, "Uh-huh"

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

She asked if I'm stuntin', I told that bitch, "Uh-huh"

Tell her that I run this shit like Usain Bolt

I'm Peyton Manning to these fuck niggas, ballin' like the Colts

I'm sick of ballin', matter of fact, I may just go become a coach

I go first class, on they ass, I ain't ridin' coach

Never goin' broke again, I spent a thousand on a coat, uh

Just to say, "I did it", uh, did it 'cause it's dope, uh

She gon' do the dope, then do the most

Know she not no real one, that bitch a hoax

Thank God, I ain't have to touch the baking soda, uh

But I know niggas in the trap, usin' the Motorolas, uh

In that bitch's throat, feel like a Ricola, she do straight coke, I sip Coca-Cola

Do I got cash? Uh-huh, I check a bag, uh-huh

Designer my jeans, uh-huh, they don't sag, uh-huh

Niggas mad, uh-huh, got my mag, uh-huh

Try to hate on me, I leave you in the past, uh-huh

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

She asked if I'm runnin', I told that bitch, "Uh-huh"

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

She asked if I'm stuntin', I told that bitch, "Uh-huh"

I like if she love it, love to flex in public

Thinkin' nothin' of it, may shoot up the function

Somethin' out of nothing, .23 in my Glock, damn

Jumpman, jumpman, jumpman, got the party jumpin'

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

I hit Maury up 'cause all these niggas is my sons

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

I ain't come here to fight niggas, go and grab the gun

Call me microwave because I heat up

I bought my stripes and I earn them bitches, Adidas

I got a Spanish bitch, I fuck on her amigas

Run up, I’ll let that .40 off, that 'lil bitch got a fever, yeah

Do I got cash? Uh-huh, I check a bag, uh-huh

Designer my jeans, uh-huh, they don't sag, uh-huh

Niggas mad, uh-huh, got my mag, uh-huh

Try to hate on me, I leave you in the past, uh-huh

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

She asked if I'm runnin', I told that bitch, "Uh-huh"

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

She asked if I'm stuntin', I told that bitch, "Uh-huh"