Young Thug – Numbers lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah
Thugger Thugger
Got my brodie London in this motherfucker, man
I'm tellin' ya this beat hard as... this song hard as fuck, listen, bro, uh
I go up, up, up and away
And I got old hundreds, they wrinkled like a Shar Pei (What?)
Plus I'm the realest nigga inside the A (What?)
Yeah

[Chorus]
And them boys in Atlanta, they don't play, yeah (Uh)
And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's, yeah (Yeah)
And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkey niggas (What?)
I got plenty ammo for your bumblin', nigga
Ammo for these pussy motherfuckas (Yeah)
Run up, I swear to God I want tears from your mother (Yeah)
Fuck nigga trippin', I'll get prison and fuck your father (What?)
I'ma tell 'em one time, ain't goin' (Puss) farther
I'm doin' numbers (No, no)

[Verse 1]
I got bands in the bando (No no), and I'm beatin' David Banner (Yeah)
And I'm smokin' on cabana (Yeah), leanin', movin' slow as grandma (Racks)
Motor runnin', spent them commas, now it's thunder (What?)
Count a hundred, want a hundred more, that's hunger (Hunger)
Yeah, baby, Thugger Thugger hungry, yes, I'm hungry
Young Thugger got the munchies (Yeah)
All my diamonds come in yellow like a Funyun (Yeah)
Yeah, all my gold made 'em sick and they can vomit (Guh)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah... pussy nigga know they can vomit
I'm growin' green, me and Chi-Chi, no pet
But (What?), I'm chasin' dreams, free Meek Milly

[Chorus]
And them boys in Atlanta, they (Hey) don't play (Hey), yeah (Hey)
And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's, yeah (Tote them k's yeah)
And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkey niggas (What?)
I got plenty ammo for your bumblin', nigga (And what else, and what?)
Ammo for these pussy motherfuckas
Run up I swear to God I want tears from your mother (Yeah)
Fuck nigga trippin', I'll get prison and fuck your father (What?)
I'ma tell 'em one time, ain't goin' farther (Ain't tellin' 'em)
I'm doin' numbers (Yeah, numbers, numbers, numbers)

[Verse 2]
I'ma tell 'em one time (Swear, swear, swear, swear)
Yeah, I can read his mind
Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, then start ridin' (Skrrt, gah, gah)
Brand new 24's, bitch on climb (Woah, skrr)
You's a busta, mothafucka rhymes
No sticky fingers, no porcupine
Hey (Yee), genius, I'll chase the day
Wait (Sheesh), let me pick up his remains
Hey (Sheesh), let them gators get their prey
(Brr, brr, brr), Hold up, hold up, wait

[Chorus]
And them boys in Atlanta, they don't play, yeah
And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's, yeah
And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkey niggas
I got plenty ammo for your bumblin', nigga
Ammo for these pussy motherfuckas
Run up, I swear to God I want tears from your mother
Fuck nigga trippin', I'll get prison and fuck your father
I'ma tell 'em one time, ain't goin' farther
I'm doin' numbers