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• Artiste: Wiz Khalifa
• Titre: Young Boy Talk
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(Puffin) Uh huh Sledgerin Uh Look nigga I'm the rawest, the mo'fuckin' animal Want war? One phone call is how I handle you (whew) On the grind, you pussy nigga's hate Bitch I'm out in different states, politic, and gettin cake. Fill my lungs with the best weed, pockets with them doller signs. Run with them niggas holdin glocks like it's columbine (pop, pop, pop) I'm a star, ain't a choice hoe I gotta shine Far as Pittsburg, I'm the voice so I gotta rhyme. Grind all the time ever since the 1st day Now I'm gettin cake like every day became my birthday Something like a earthquake, the way this shit drop I be at the tip top posted with a big knot You didn't know hoe you sit at home and just watch Less then haters, stone cold spectators Same lame's turn out to be investigators No where near comfortable need extra paper. Got the city on smash, the streets on lock 100 real niggas with their heats on cock Got my pockets on swol still need more gwap. Plus the hood says they love to hear the young boy talk Ay ay The jeans spent about a buck 45 on them If He trick the team, buck 45's on him. When we hit the scene, the club hoes just pile on him You scrubs show them groupies love, I just style on them.