“Say Less Ft Lil Durk & A Boogie wit da Hoodie” This latest hard project is bound to go to the top of the charts as we can see that the team behind it did their best to the execution of the work.
Listen below;
[Intro: Swizz Beatz & Lil Durk]
Yeah, heh, okay
No ‘tune right? Turn my voice up
Yeah, yeah
Say less
[Chorus: Swizz Beatz & Lil Durk & Both]
Tired of all the fake shit, tired of all the bullshit (Yeah, Smurk, let’s get it)
Tired of all these niggas talkin’ ’bout they gon’ do shit
Tired of all these niggas ready to squash shit
You got a problem with me, I ain’t squashin’ shit
Say less, say less, say less, say less
Say less, say less, say less, say less, yeah, yeah
(You know what the fuck goin’ on, man, Smurk, I’m with the ‘Za, nigga, haha)
[Verse 1: Lil Durk]
I ain’t squashin’ shit, JAY-Z can tell me, “Do it,” I’ma tell him, “No” (Man, what?)
OGs get on the blogs, act likе they killers, most them niggas hoеs (Rat)
Trenches, I’m like Drake, but I can’t cap, that nigga baby Hov (Yeah)
I grew up a screw up, got to heat the crib up with the stove (Yeah)
Fifteen roaches crawled up on my face, Diddy probably trolled (Man, he probably trolled)
I get a Grammy, I’m on stage with killers how I be at shows (Grrah)
No gimmick, I told Pooh he just like Kendrick with a Shiesty flow (Yeah)
I used to look up to them hood legends, some are mices though (Man, what?)
Say less, I had to shop at Payless, for lawyers you can’t pay less (Yeah, yeah)
I can swipe off lawyers and for choppers with my Apex (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
“Durk ain’t from the trenches,” who the fuck can really say that? (Who the fuck can really say that, nigga?)
“Durk ain’t for his niggas,” who the fuck can really say that? (Who the fuck can really say that?)
Say less, say less, say less, nigga, say less
Say less, nigga, say less, say less, nigga
Man, what? (Ayy)
[Verse 2: A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie]
Huh, I ain’t gotta talk about it, now I got it, look
Niggas stylist get they style from me, I promise ya
I don’t want the bitch if she don’t do it sloppy, yeah
We not hearin’ it, barbarians
The bed was rocky, her head was sloppy
The fans on my body ’cause my Cuban link so ocky, look
Hermès for Christmas, even if it ain’t no holiday, I sled
Fuck breakfast, she gon’ eat me up and swallow me, I’m like, “Yeah”
My ex bitch don’t like me, but she still follow me ’cause I’m lit
And my enemies shootin’ in the air, like Hail Mary we blitz (Blitz)
Uh, ahh, ahh, yeah, look
After all that I did
Sorry, baby, I don’t wanna find no love in Starlets
Ratchet, ratchet on me, ratchet right on my hip
Pass it to the broski, he gon’ empty the clips
Like Tracy McGrady, I’ma keep one up in my shit
Let it off like the Navy, all my niggas ain’t with nothin’
Let’s go, me and Durkio, you know we, we wildin’
Word to mommy, Monte got booked for servin’ nine Gs
Spin the block, sendin’ shots, so much shots hit his body
You gon’ think a nigga got the monkeypox
Ooh, don’t diss, honest, nigga, it’s a warzone outside
Movin’ like Little Red Robin, hoodie on all the time, uh
Tired of all the fake shit, tired of all the bullshit (Shh)
Tired of all these niggas talkin’ ’bout they gon’ do shit (Shh, shh)
Tired of all these niggas ready to squash shit
You got a problem with me, I ain’t squashin’ shit
Say less, say less, say less, say less, nigga
Say less, say less, nigga, say less, say less, nigga
Man, what?