Flip That Boy

[Intro]
Yeah, Yeah (Young DB)
Yeah (Young DB, Young DB)
Young DB

[Chorus]
Hundred round drum when you see me in traffic
Catch him down bad, watch DB do him nasty
Can’t play with these niggas, nah they not gym classes
We slide back to back, PFK do no cappin
I heard he want smoke til we pulled up and whacked him
These niggas so broke, yeah we walking straight past em
We all in your church, we put Glocks on the pastor
The way that stick hit him, make him do gymnastics
Flip that boy, turn that lil boy to a mattress
Talking bout bodies but we know you cappin
Set the hood on fire we don’t need no matches
We keep them sticks boy this shit can get tragic
All in the lamb we got bands and we taxing
In love with the street, nigga I don’t need no matching
In love with my Chevy, I don’t need no Bentley
In love with my glizzy, I shoot til it’s empty

[Verse]
I come from the trenches, we jump off the mattress
This DB, it hit you, it flip yo ass backwards
In love with that money, you a sack, I’m a tackle
In love with yo bitch she got knowledge, good brain
I’m shooting like Kobe number eight, with good range
I just want three rings, we took off three stains
I seen J3 yesterday, with that stick, do his thing
Hit his block with them sticks and I let that bitch bang
Yeah, hold up
Yeah, hold up
Stick him, don’t fold up
Hundred round drum on that bitch look like donut
We keep them dracs and you know that bitch fold up
Ice on my neck, bitch you know that I’m froze up
That DB hit you make yo ass do the hold up
Keep a big bag, bitch you know that my load up

[Chorus]
Hundred round drum when you see me in traffic
Catch him down bad, watch DB do him nasty
Can’t play with these niggas, nah they not gym classes
We slide back to back, PFK do no cappin
I heard he want smoke til we pulled up and whacked him
These niggas so broke, yeah we walking straight past em
We all in your church, we put Glocks on the pastor
The way that stick hit him, make him do gymnastics
Flip that boy, turn that lil boy to a mattress
Talking bout bodies but we know you cappin
Set the hood on fire we don’t need no matches
We keep them sticks boy this shit can get tragic
All in the lamb we got bands and we taxing
In love with the street, nigga I don’t need no matching
In love with my Chevy, I don’t need no Bentley
In love with my glizzy, I shoot til it’s empty