Presenting the Uchies Lyrics by Duse Beatz . Hope you would enjoy the lyrics of the song. Stay tuned in for more.
Uchies Lyrics
Uchies, uchies, uchies
Uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies
Hmmmmm
[Duse makin’ slaps, true]
Try me? Please you don’t have enough uchies
Let alone, enough groupies, I’m out with the broski, tell me how you wanna do it
Killers ride to my music, on God I can’t think straight
A buck fifty on the e-way, they ain’t never finna get me, they ain’t never finna get me
But they can get high speed chase
Anything for the uchies, tryna tell you I’m the Ruler
Heads down when you speak to me, get on your knees when you greet me
You know I got it in me, and then your attitude frivolous
Don’t like pops in my business, too many pops from the beginning, I’m riding with a sentence
I’m all about the uchies, tired of bump-ins with new
They be acting like they won’t
Ten bands for a lawyer, that was just for him to speak to me
N****s wanna write grievances, ’cause they hating on my a*s, why they hating on my a*s?
‘Cause they hugging on the block, I tried to tell you I’m the problem
Uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies
Uchies uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies
Anything for the uchies, anything for the uchies
Anything, anything, anything for the uchies
Anything for the uchies
Anything, anything, anything for the uchies
Midnight mission on my bullshit
Looking for some money and a cool b***h
Still getting money off of Youzza Flip
You looking like a bum, like a hipster b***h
You bummies, other people’s money
12 years old, got beat up for serving dummies
I love the uchi, got damn I love the money
My play auntie, was my favorite smoker
Taught me how to cook up shake and play poker
Let me hustle out her car to go to Oakland
Go stupid, got hyphy with the hustle
And I yatted out this gat
I used to sell my lunch tickets, and hit the dice game
Ohh, Drakeo, that’s Mr. Get Dough
Jay 305, Mr. Mr. Good Dough
Uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies
Uchies uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies
Anything for the uchies, anything for the uchies
Anything, anything, anything for the uchies
Anything for the uchies
Anything, anything, anything for the uchies
Mr. Uchies, cold devil, it’s life threatening
Chop a n***a down for these pints, it’s my medicine
Four in chili baba, b***h you ain’t getting nada
Keep the blood to your bottle, ’cause I never wore Prada
Bleed ’em, f**k it, these n****s, I never need ’em
Riding in the Boondocks and dodgin’ the Stinkmeaner, bleating
Ain’t f*****g him, ain’t f*****g me neither
A fake watch, a fake chain, on me there’s neither
The Stinc Team, this n***a’s a meat beater
Silly Billy, call Shirley n***a, ’cause we leaving
Twenty strips on the floor for any n***a competing
Jesus, somebody call a deacon
Threw so much money, s**t the need a clean
I should get a beating, all this money I’m receiving
Threw so much, s**t the altar need a cleaning
‘Cause b***h I’m getting uchies, believe it
Uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies
Uchies uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies, uchies
Anything for the uchies, anything for the uchies
Anything, anything, anything for the uchies
Anything for the uchies
Anything, anything, anything for the uchies
This is the end of Uchies Lyrics.
