Yung Booke – Easter Fit Lyrics

Easter Fit Lyrics – Yung Booke

Yeah, back to the cash (ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)

Died in the Easter fit before you can wear it out, yeah, yeah
I just bought a brand-new ratchet at my grandma house, uh, uh
I been wavin’ that gat’ since a juvenile, uh, uh
I be dressed like a martian, takeoff, rockets now, uh, uh
Ooh, I’m dressin’ tacky, none of my designers match, uh, uh
Not my main bitch but she got my name tatted, uh, uh
You gotta front me a mill’ or I’m not comin’ back, uh, uh
When it come to poppin’ my shit, bitch, I was made for that, uh, uh

Two hunnid on the coupe, I’ma come through like a maniac (Yeah, yeah)
Lil’ nigga stole my style and had to bring it back (Uh, uh)
Bad lil’ bitch in college, she give me brainiac (Yeah, yeah)
Twenty-somethin’, all of my gang, bitch, yeah, we claimin’ that (Uh, uh)
Six [?] Crip, my flag blue like my hunnid bills (Yeah, yeah)
Heard your shooter was strapped but he gon’ run with his (Uh, uh)
We just spin the Benz and I hop on the ‘Ville (Yeah, yeah)
I’m so money savage just like Uncle Slim (Big dawg)
They know I run my city just like Big U (Big U)
The freak, he claimin’ Blood but he gon’ spray for blue (On God)
Crash out ’bout K-L, they better not play with you (Not play with you, yeah)
Hustlin’ in my veins, do what my daddy do (I ball)

Died in the Easter fit before you can wear it out, yeah, yeah
I just bought a brand-new ratchet at my grandma house, uh, uh
I been wavin’ that gat’ since a juvenile, uh, uh
I be dressed like a martian, takeoff, rockets now, uh, uh
Ooh, I’m dressin’ tacky, none of my designers match, uh, uh
Not my main bitch but she got my name tatted, uh, uh
You gotta front me a mill’ or I’m not comin’ back, uh, uh
When it come to poppin’ my shit, bitch, I was made for that, uh, uh

I’m ’bout to catch a private and I’ma be late for that, uh, uh
I just stashed a model, Mediterranean, uh, uh
Zoom, zoom, zoom in a Urus like a maniac, uh, uh
Fucked your bitch on sight, that’s my lil’ new-new, yeah, yeah
Mixin’ lean and Sprite, it got my screws loose, yeah, yeah
Toss me a bag and this bitch give me choo-choo, yeah, yeah
Shawty got down on her knees, slurped me like noodles, uh, uh
Choppin’ a brick in the trap like I know kung fu, uh, uh
Pablo Escobar with the work, do numbers, yeah, yeah
Pop me one, I, whoo, turn to a monster, uh, uh
Forty pointers on her wrist, I’m her sponsor, yeah, yeah
That’s the one, put that dick past her tonsils, uh, uh (Yeah)

Died in the Easter fit before you can wear it out, yeah, yeah
I just bought a brand-new ratchet at my grandma house, uh, uh
I been wavin’ that gat’ since a juvenile, uh, uh
I be dressed like a martian, takeoff, rockets now, uh, uh
Ooh, I’m dressin’ tacky, none of my designers match, uh, uh
Not my main bitch but she got my name tatted, uh, uh
You gotta front me a mill’ or I’m not comin’ back, uh, uh
When it come to poppin’ my shit, bitch, I was made for that, uh, uh

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