Young Dro What it is Letras:[Girl:] Ladies and
Gentlemen, this is a
Jazze Phizzle production
Young Drooo
[Chorus x2:]
Are you a killa? What it is
Oh Yeah, What it is
Drug dealer, what it is
Young player, ridin's hard
I just wanna sit up in the air
Get high, I just wanna
be up in the air
[Verse:]
I'm in the air (come down)
ain't comin down (why?)
Up here dammit (where?)
ain't comin down (please)
Bubbilish coat, 26's in the town
I'm a killa too,
Killin bitches in town
Chevy with the beat down
Make you spin around
I could fishtail
Off Fishdale
Ask the niggas over there
If I'm the shit there
I don't tolerate
My Impala great
Bring the top out
Bet I discombobulate
I'm a tough nigga
You a fucked nigga
See me in the club all
prodded up nigga
I got a semi too
My whole Jimmy true
I got diamonds, earned
like Winnie Pooh
Give to Lapia
And caviar for dinner too
Mafia as a mother fucka
don't make me have to get at you
I throw a hundered shots
A nigga puff into two
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 2:]
[Más Letras en es.mp3lyrics.org/UZLJ]My car actually
Willy Wonka Factory
Ice look like rasberry
these hoes try to tackle me
Nigga I'm a killa I
suggest you don't come
after me
Bitch I'll be in Collipark
Plus I'll on Mcafee
Bankhead faculty
Boy you need to rap with me
Come and talk to me
Before I open up your cavity
Shots come rapidly
I told you not to mess with me
I don't play with little boys
You tryin to Michael Jackson me?
Lord nigga ridin the
air fantastically
Til the day they kill us
ill never put my rims up
Actually, car flop purple
when the sun come
When they get done with that thing
It'll look Dro won
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3:]
Mink coat
Shit polar bear
Hoes over here
Hoes over there
I'm about to take flight
I'm goin in the air
Candy with the gloss
I'm about to lift it out
can't you see someone on
me you don't like
And then lick it out
We don't need to look at a town
We rip em off
My wrist folded
Forget how much tip costs
Buy a hundered k I don't wanna play
Young Dro rides home
in the summer day
Sellin dope, it'd be
Junkys where my momma stay
Bad hoes get treated like runaways
Bitch you need to go
home cool out and smoke
a blunt today
Go and say how my cuttly
look like egg yolk
you know I keep a tool with me all
in the bed though
My money fed though
it's Grand Hustle bread boy
We got 28 inches in the air
What you scared for?
[Chorus x2]Letras: What it is Young Dro [final]