YOUNGBOY

Yeah, it’s YB again… again… again…

I just dropped my 37th mixtape this week, stop playin' with me.

Still can’t leave the house though.

Woke up mad, made a song 'bout my toaster,

Label said chill, I said "bet," then dropped a poster.

Got ten kids, ten grills, ten chains,

Still find time to beef with folks I barely even name.

Tatted “loyalty” on my forehead, twice,

Never read the contract, but I still want rights.

I rap 'bout pain, rage, cars, and courts,

Judge said house arrest, I said, "Cool — I’ll drop more shorts."

Can’t go outside, but I go platinum in my sleep,

Arguin' on IG live, cryin' over beats.

I got enemies, frenemies, drama on repeat,

Dropped so many songs, even Spotify said “Sheesh!”

I diss my ops, then I pray in the booth,

I’m emotionally unstable but I spit the truth.

Got a new baby mama just from blinkin’ wrong,

She said "hi," I said "aye," now she in my song.

They say YB better? YB bitter.

Rappin’ in the mirror with a filter and a glitter.

I make hits like I breathe, ain't no plan,

If I stub my toe? That’s another EP, fam.

Can’t go outside, but I go platinum in my sleep,

Arguin' on IG live, cryin' over beats.

I got enemies, frenemies, drama on repeat,

Dropped so many songs, even Spotify said “Sheesh!”

Yeah, I got five unreleased albums in my sock drawer,

Might drop ‘em if the Wi-Fi come back strong.

It’s YB. Never boring, just emotionally exhausted.

But I’m still trending. Don’t ask why.