Get One ft. YTN Matt Lyrics

Flew out of state for the bag

Im gone pick one

If I don't got my brother gone get one

This Glock on my hip

So just watch how you approach me

I got her bagging the bags ain't no groceries

Them niggas had traded

I knew they would fold on me

I got a chop

When I shoot hit the shoulder lean

These niggas they saying having

Then show it

All out of state copping bags

Boy they know me

Straight

Yea we stepping heavy

Yea we some big soldiers

Glock 19 bight down like a cobra

Aye when you that nigga

You don't have to show it

Thick bitch walking around on some marbles floors

My AR retarded

It st st st studder

I pull in dually

I look like a trucker

YTN with me

We came out the gutter

Yea real trap niggas

Yea we some real hustlers

You play with the gang

And we putting you under

I'm gone call that shit out

If I don't like how you coming

He was talking real tough

But I knew it was nothing

Put a bitch on a plane

With the pills in her stomach

I can just flex

But I swear I don't got to

Watch how you move

Cause them feds they gone watch you

With the SRT gang and we about to go crazy

Me and Young G got sticks like the Navy

Talk slick

We gone break down your front door

Grits in a bowl

Trying to get me huncho

I got it gone when I got it in

When I fuck i need two

So just bring a friend

SRT YTN business

Young Matt trap

Still smelling like fishes

Trap with a Glock

And it came with a switch

Get the fuck out my spot

If you can't suck dick

In a cat bending corners

Took 12 on a chase

So I can't look back

Neck, wrist pneumonia

Im selling cookies like I was insomnia

Yea we them niggas with real low numbers

He was taxing on the pack

So we had to take him off

I don't even talk

Tell them choppers let it off

Soon as I hit it

I swear I take off

Whatever you do

Boy it come at a cost

Come to your spot

We gone spin and spin off

Im stacking paper

Ill serve you like waiters

This Glock in my pocket

In case you might play us

I'm from the east

You can call it Decatur

I ride with my stick

And it look like I cater

This chopper just clapping shit

Like alligators

My spot hitting

I be waking the neighbors

And we get it in

Turning two to ten

Tasmanian devil

We spinning again

You can call it Wakanda

Got black bags in

Yea Lucci on me

I'm a YFN

Yea Gucci on me

Thick bitch in a benz

I'm a real finesser

Might finesse my kin

Got thirties Got tens Real runtz came in

Lemon pound cake cookies

Your mid ain't hitting

Flew out of state for the bag

Im gone pick one

If I don't got my brother gone get one

This Glock on my hip

So just watch how you approach me

I got her bagging the bags ain't no groceries

Them niggas had traded

I knew they would fold on me

I got a chop

When I shoot hit the shoulder lean

These niggas they saying having

Then show it

All out of state copping bags

Boy they know me

Straight

Yea we stepping heavy

Yea we some big soldiers

Glock 19 bight down like a cobra

Aye when you that nigga

You don't have to show it

Thick bitch walking around on some marbles floors

My AR retarded

It st st st studder

I pull in dually

I look like a trucker

YTN with me

We came out the gutter

Yea real trap niggas

Yea we some real hustlers