What It Is Lyrics - Young Dro

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Young Dro, Young Dro

[Girl:] Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a Jazze Phizzle production Young Drooo

[Chorus: x2]
Are you a killa? What it is
Oh Yeah, What it is
Drug dealer, what it is
Young player, ridin's hard
I just wanna sit up in the air
Get high, I just wanna be up in the air

[Verse:]
I'm in the air (come down)
Ain't comin down (why?)
Up here dammit (where?)
Ain't comin down (please)
Bubbilish coat, 26's in the town
I'm a killa too,
Killin xxxxxxx in town
Chevy with the beat down
Make you spin around
I could fishtail
Off Fishdale
Ask the niggas over there
If i'm the xxxx there
I don't tolerate
My Impala great
Bring the top out
Bet I discombobulate
I'm a tough nigga
You a fucked nigga
See me in the club all prodded up nigga
I got a semi too
My whole penny do
I got diamonds, earned like Winnie Pooh
Give to Lapia
And caviar for dinner too
Mafia as a mother fucka
Don't make me have to get at you
I blow a hundered shots
A nigga puff into two

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 2:]
My car actually
Really walk a factory
Ice look like rasberry
It'd be hard to try and tackle me
Nigga I'm a killa i suggest you don't come after me
Bitch I'll be in Collipark
Plus I'll on Mcafee
Bankhead faculty
Boy you need to rap with me
Come and talk to me
Before I open up your cavity
Shots come rapidly
I told you not to mess with me
I don't play with little boys
You tryin to Michael Jackson me?
Lord nigga ridin the air fantastically
Til their daddy kill somethin else
I put my rims up
Actually, car flop purple when the sun come
When they get done with that thing
It'll look Dro won

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3:]
Meat coat berberberber
Shit polar there
Hoes over here
Hoes over there
I'm about to take flight
I'm goin in the air
Candy with the gloss
I'm about to lift it out
Can't you see someone on me you don't like
And then lick it out
We don't need to look at a town
We rip em off
My wrist folded
Forget how much tip costs
Buy a hundered k i don't wanna play
Young Dro rides hard in the summer day
Sellin dope, it'd be giant in my mama's day
Bad hoes get treated like runaways
Bitch you need to go home cool out and smoke a blunt today
Go and say how my cut look like egg yolk
I keep two with me all in the bed though
My money fed though
It's Grand Hustle bread boy
We got 28 inches in the air
What you scared for?

[Chorus x2]

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