Andy the Chef - YoYo Lyrics

Call that bitch a yo-yo
I throw her, she come back
Call that bitch a no no
She don't know how to act
And if you got that shit on lock
Then why she sitting on my lap
Cuz my shit slap, and I'm sitting on a stack
Call that bitch a yo-yo
I throw her she come back to me
And all these bitches fake, could be made in a factory
And all these niggas snakes, while they wait
I just laugh see
Cuz while they get no money, I'm just getting to my bag
Now I'm shitting on my ex, f*cking on the next
F*cking with these, yo my liver is a mess
Thank God I'm blessed, Thank God He's real
Thank God I'm here, and thank God I feel
Cuz these niggas is so heartless
These niggas is so clueless
Lookin at my past thinking
Why the f*ck I do this
My new bitch a nudist, yeah she getting naked
That chick is a trophy, you want it Imma take it
I can hoop for the Lakers, cuz I got the skill
Yall think I'm worth a rack, but I'm sitting on a mil
She throw it on a nigga, she hoe-in for a nigga
I ain't f*ck with her at first, now she growing on a nigga
So I call that bitch a yo-yo
I throw her, she come back
Call that bitch a no no
She don't know how to act
And if you got that shit on lock
Then why she sitting on my lap
Cuz my shit slap, and I'm sitting on a stack
Call that bitch a yo-yo
I throw her she come back to me
And all these bitches fake, could be made in a factory
And all these niggas snakes, while they wait
I just laugh see cuz
While they get no money, I'm just getting to my bag
(My bag, my bag, my bag)
Wasn't worth a grip, now I'm gettin to them commas
Them niggas talking shit, lowkey all up in they mamas
She wanna twerk it for a nigga, like some maracas
Said go ahead
Bust down thotiana
Like a bitch
The money running back to me
Andy cooking up, that's a fact to me
Rhyme after rhyme, that's a bag to me
She like papi can you spend another stack on me
Like step, bitch don't step to a nigga, gah damn
She always tryna flex with a nigga, I am
The realest and the flyest, no fake to my game
I can't work witcha, too much weight on my name
They watch a nigga pockets like a race to the chain
So when I throw em out, they come runnin back again
Yall slippin up, like you need a pick-me-up
All yall niggas baby soft, lemme get the sippy cup
I spend it then get back to the bread like I'm Frodo
I aim then it's shots to your head like a photo
Them white girls love a nigga ice, call me froyo
So when I throw her out, she come back like a yo-yo
Like a yo-yo