YBN Nahmir – Talkin Lyrics

Ayy, ayy, ayy
Roar

Came in this b**** with my young n**** stuntin’
You play with the gang and the Glock gon get busted
I went off to London, he came back with somethin’
I’m making that call and my young n***** comin’
Facts, I was just stuffing them birds in their lack
Tell my young brothers hit the blunt and relax
I might get the trip with young peace in the back
I’m counting these fifties, put up in a stack, ayy
‘Member when I had s***, now a lil’ n**** got rich
‘Member seeing bro trapping, now we living lavish
Tried to run, he got shot in the back
Still mad, I had to ghost ’em with Mack
Caught ’em slipping, got em down in their packs
I’ma just stack it and go get the cash, ayy
Big 44
Running round town with like four hoes
N***** hate ’cause my wrist froze
“Your brother fake,” he not me though
Boy approach me, then I open that bag
‘Cause if we need it, then we takin’ yo’ bread
Gotta watch when we talking to Feds
The police don’t play ’cause they know what I’m with, b****!
Used to be run’ ’round with sticks, ayy
I might just be f****** your b****
B****, I’m the kind of my click
They always take me on they hits
These new n***** gon’ act like they on som’thing
They ain’t on nothing, they know I, I keep my gun
I beef in the trap, with no plaque, G’s in the back
On time to sit now, with no L’s, but keys to the pad
I’m really with that, a n**** playin’, I’m getting no wet
When they get sent, these n***** tough, until they get smacked
Come to the four, sell a phone, they sent his a** home
I go to the hound, I’m untouched, these n***** be hoes
I’m wondering though, why they got artillery for
B**** leave me alone, it ain’t no fame from me in them songs
B**** know how to make money fast, ’cause we done seen the top
N***** think they on my a**, man tell them n***** stop it
Call my b**** a Fendi bag, because she really popping
Now I turn up, throw some money every time a n**** bring the CD out
Fifty rounds, with Lil lizzie, yeah
Selling guns at my mama’s house
If they slide then let ’em slide I ain’t tryna see what they talkin’ ’bout
Fifty rounds, with Lil lizzie, yeah
Selling guns at my mama’s house
If they slide then let ’em slide
I ain’t tryna see what they talkin’ ’bout
(They talkin’ ’bout)