Trae Tha Truth - Yeah Hoe lyrics

rate me

Ft. Problem , Lil Boss

(Hook)

Aye hoe, errday a nigga wake up I get dough

When I get that, next day get more

Go and ask if a nigga on, if ye ain't sure

Everyday I be like yea hoe, yeah hoe

They gon' be like yea hoe, yea hoe

They gon' be like yea hoe, yea hoe

(Verse: Trae Tha Truth)

Bitch, I hustle, I'm talkin' like the gang of tee I rip full

On that gangsta shit, like I was Pac when he was death row

King off in these streets, I got it locked cause I won't let go

When they come to Houston, it's understood it's the whistle

All I knew was get money, flippin' stash and I flip the safe

Takin' just a cue bender to find me a plug and put in place

They told me it wouldn't say, P90, same color race

If that vicnis to my waist, I cosmetic construct their face

Have you looking like a coupe with the top blown

Super Bowl like Janet with the top gone

Try to go against the Truth and get your shot blown

Fuck nigga just fly and get yo block gone

Been hot, like the kitchen with the pots on

Two door Maybach with the knock on

So many stoves over the watch, you think the clock gone

I been the shit, haters tryna get their block on

(Hook)

(Verse 2: Problem)

Offed 1800, skeet it all

Compton up chockin' out off the weed I blow

Straight lit like a match top

High servin' all day like a trap stop

Six shots, yeah, the gas hot

Yeah, yo badge hot

Young Mac, got 'er opened like a laptop

No deal, but I like that apple

2pac with the juice, OG no snap 'em

Bitch, you won that raffle, you done got with a winner

Compton nigga that love pussy fo' dinner

Zig-zag, 2 grams, yeah, cookies is in 'em

Ben Rocks in the _____(?), got rocks in the denim

Yeah, I'm rackin' on hangers, rovin' in Rangers

Bustin' em danger, plus I stay with 'em bangers

Diamond in lane, you know the gang, fool

Haters hotter than ice, still I remain cool

(Hook)

(Verse 3: Lil Boss)

Boss, all gas and the fast life

Saggin' in my trues, pay my dudes, I'mma spazz out

Smokin' on some shit outta friscoe, I just copped it

Bust a cigar other then lick it, seal it and lock it

I'm all across the table like a corner pocket

I was raised on the corner with a holster rocket

You talkin' bout shows, ain't supposed to rock it

Muthafuck go to court and their fuck ass doc shit

Catch me runnin' through a red light, roof all open

Right chemist lab but the coupe all pokin'

Arm on my helmet, I can't even much light it yeah

Nigga'll pull up and serve yo ass yo teraphia

Nigga, where the weed at? I'm headin' to the drag house

Patch it with a couple of homies and neva drag out

Diggin' in my pocket for my dice, pullin' my bank out

Since hoes eat dick, I'm moppin' with my Frank out

(Hook)

Thanks to George for adding these lyrics