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YoungBoy Never Broke Again – Expensive Taste Lyrics

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(D-Roc, D-Roc)

Fuck them racks, I keep a card, I got the Glock in the middle

Know I’ma spin ’bout my n****

I told her hit me on the way, when she headin’ home

I’ma have it lookin’ nice when she get here

Real hitta, bad n****, expensive bottle for bitches

Main n**** wit’ millions, straight from the bottom my n****

Gravedigga’ and you know that he don’t tolerate mentions

Dirty choppa if he ever got a problem with n*****

Big issues, he ain’t trippin’ ’cause his sack thicker

Wonder how she feel that she finna get married to that n****

Got to know I’m ready, she know I been waitin’ plenty minutes

And she too bad for them jeans, can’t do no skinny dippin’

Ain’t never worried ’bout these n*****, I do the realest pimpin’

Mink coat, styrofoam dope, how I walk up in it

From off the porch, they’ll never know how these diamonds glistening

Made it out, young n**** been on suicidal missions

I got on gang attire n****, this be the best of linen

Ride in a Lincoln, when linkin’, no I don’t need your lendin’

She think she got one up on me

I blew a bag on my homie

I got a chance and I boned it

Think all these n***** are phony

Wake up and smoke in the mornin’

I rep that flag wit’ my blood

These n***** know that I’m on it

I let off shots in the club

And these bitches wan’ be my mommy

But you know you not my girl

Flood her finger with diamonds

No, I can’t turn up your world

This a new gee-ski, better have your shit together when you see me

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N**** know I’m covered down in green

But for a fact, I’m bleedin’

N**** knowin’ that I’m strapped

You better clap soon as you see me

Won’t buy her anything, but flood my sister for any reason

Cocaine white like I’m sellin’ drugs

That’s a new foreign off the lot for my thug, why?

Cause he been wit’ me way before I even knew who I was

Lil shorty wit’ me and she got me, she don’t care ’bout no buzz

1942 get her drunk, no, she don’t leave wit’ a buzz

The feds on me, watch how I talk, I think they planted a bug

What the fuck wrong wit’ me?

Spent a couple million, wake up then the label sent another million

Ain’t no slippin’, on my pimpin’, got it on me know I’m grippin’

Every time I sent a blitz, they zipped ’em, rare they fail a mission

‘Cause they know we get it done, as usual, how we come

Let ’em keep thinkin’ I’m dumb, I’m never done

Check how my pockets, got them mumps

Check how them draco’s got them drums

Make a beat like a band, flood her wit’ bands

Make her so hot, they gon’ think she got a tan


N**** know I’m known to bust my gun

For a fact I ain’t never ran, this who I am

Better speak clear or I can’t hear what you sayin’

Fuck them racks, I keep a card, I got the Glock in the middle

Know I’ma spin ’bout my n****

I told her hit me on the way, when she headin’ home

I’ma have it lookin’ nice when she get here

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Real hitta, bad n****, expensive bottle for bitches

Made n**** wit’ millions, straight from the bottom my n****

Gravedigga’ and you know he don’t tolerate mentions

Dirty choppa if he ever got a problem with n*****

Dirty cutter, crazy how a choppa clean up the block

Won fights inside the hood

Lost fights inside the block, it never stop

Come from the ground, I ain’t use a crane, I rushed to top

Play wit’ them glizzys like Shmurda, they know that lil’ n**** hot

And I got ten cars, I ain’t never showed the shit that I got

I could have ten broads

But ain’t nothin’ worth the bitch on my side

Could be the best one recordin’

But ain’t nothin’ worth Jason spot

I get in, then hit it hard, then I cum on her twat

He can be a robber, bet that n**** won’t stick his hand in my pocket

Cut off his arm, bet he won’t say that he took off on AI

I had it hard, I walked on feet, but now fly on a G5

Hope he don’t think he could G me, I ain’t goin for no G, five

And that my blood, he get it brackin’, he got to war when we firin’

Yeah, that my 10 to then end, we gon’ spin

Got Dior on my glasses, and got Nick behind the lens

Just me, my sister, my mama and girl, no I don’t need no friends

But I don’t got a gun, I got a knife for when they kickin’ in

I’m sleepin’ lightly through the night, just in case Casper in

I got them capsules in New York, and they got molly in it

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Imagine every friend wit’ the shit, just don’t let holly in

Fuck them racks, I keep a card, I got the Glock in the middle

Finna buy a flight and get away after I pop me a n****

I take a flight and get away ’cause I can’t tolerate n*****

Gotta get mine, straight out the gate

Hustlin’ for more than eight figures

Fuck that money, got a black card, my Glock in the middle

Know I’ma spin ’bout my n*****

He this and that, but tell me how the fuck do they figure

He worried ’bout any one these n***** or these bitches (How, how)

Fuck them racks, I keep a card, I got the Glock in the middle

Know I’ma spin ’bout my n****

I told her hit me on the way, when she headin’ home

I’ma have it lookin’ nice when she get here

Real hitta, band n****, expensive bottle for bitches

Made n**** wit’ millions, straight from the bottom my n****

Gravedigga’ and you know he don’t tolerate mentions

Dirty choppa if he ever got a problem with n*****

(It’s Slimeto, Lil Top, AI

YoungBoy, n****, Kentrell)


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