W Y O (What You On) Lyrics

Mike Will Made It

Ransom 2

Lyrics to W Y O (What You On)
W Y O (What You On) Video:
Mike Willy with me nigga
Thugger, Thugger, baby
I'm out in the booth eating candy and shit
Can't get enough, (Can't get enough)
Eeeeeeee

I cock back the stick and I aim at your dome
I say me a prayer then I send your ass home
No matter what you can't take me off the throne
Aye I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on
What you on
What you on
What you on
Aye I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on
What you on
What you on
What you on
Yeah I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on

That was a mistake, I didn't mean to say that
I fuck on that bitch and she don't tell no one, I don't play that
I'm real, I just told you so you can know where your lil' bae at
And if you ever play about that lil' bitch, I'll beat you like where Zay at
They say no one do it better, motor geeked up all etcetera
Hop out with thousands of predators
I'm hungry, I want some competitors
And that shit get fly like a pelican
I'm in LA, I want me some editors
Don't step on this landmine
I'm geeked out my mind, I'm not mankind
But this stick I'ma blast mine
Your bitch a tutor, you can class mine
Chanel first, no you can't last mine
Didn't I tell you 'bout that last time
I'm eating so good, it's that crab time
I had me some cheese, yeah, I Kraft mine
Barter 6, nigga, halftime (Blatt)

I cock back the stick and I aim at your dome
I say me a prayer then I send your ass home
No matter what you can't take me off the throne
Aye I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on
What you on
What you on
What you on
Aye I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on
What you on
What you on
What you on
Yeah I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on

Pull up on a bitch, in that foreign with exhaust
I just kicked that bitch up out my car and made her walk
No I'm not from Texas but I pull up kickin' sauce (ooooohhh weeeee)
Christmastime, I spent half a ticket for Jack Frost
I stuff that bitch in a fender bender
Bend that bitch over like sinner sinner
Fuck the police, Man they trying to kill us
But I think they know that them slimes are killers (SLIME)
Yeah I think they know that them slimes are triller
The lots and lots lots of niggas
Fuck em all like we some thottie niggas
I need four wheels like a tri-cycle
Fuck on her friend and she know it, she know it
I bought a Jag and then show it, then show it
Cuz I really love it, didn't do it to show it
Bought a G5 for my boys, my boys
Fuck a car note, I don't owe her nothing oh
Lactose intolerant, Bae I'm spoiled, I'm spoiled
Take me some bars and take off to the stars
I done got so high, man, I think I see God (Hey Baby)

I cock back the stick and I aim at your dome
I say me a prayer then I send your ass home
No matter what you can't take me off the throne
Aye I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on
What you on
What you on
What you on
Aye I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on
What you on
What you on
What you on
Yeah I fuck with your shit but I don't know what you on
Songwriters: BRAYLIN PHILLIP BOWMAN, JEFFREY WILLIAMS, MICHAEL LEN WILLIAMS, STEPHEN ROBERT HYBICKI
Publisher: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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