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Young'n
Fabolous
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
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Translation
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Brooklyn
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Huh, huh, uh-huh, yeah
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Uh, what's going on? Uh
Rollin', gold two-seater
Stash in the dash hold two heaters
Blocka, put holes through beaters
Ghetto Fab, stroll through cheaters
Ballin', Brooklyn don
Addicted to Cris, hooked on Dom
Fifty G's, hookers on
Ma, I wanna see how you look in thongs
Hustlin', guys that's simple
'Cause I chop rocks the size of mentos
Blame me, I tried to hint
Look at the hurp, your eyes'll squint closed
Pimpin', here's a new way to flirt
Listen to the two-way alert, it goes...
Let's go, V.I.P., boo, raise your skirt
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
I'm gangsta, y'all just wannabes
Federal agents on the P's
Thirty a gram, twenty-eight on the keys
Got a good lawyer, I'm gonna squeeze
Thuggin', jeans and Timbs
Fitted to the front, lean the brim
Ride, but never on teenage rims
And I keep a .45 between my limbs
Stylin', y'all heard about my kick game
I'm on the parkay, you see me at the Knick game
Probably seen this tatted on your chick frame
F-A-B-O-L-O-U-S
Ridin', y'all know as well I do
That's the way you can tell I blew
So I got a deal, I sell pies too
'Cause before I hit the pens, I'm gettin' bailed by Clue
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Cruisin', top on the 'Cedes low
Turn this up when you hear this on the radio
Blastin', with the 1980 flow
Make the necks on the ladies go (Woo)
Holla, that's what a pretty thug'll do
Hit Branson, get a fifty jug or two
Y'all throwin' on them gritty mugs for who?
Like y'all don't know what fifty grams'll do
Hatin', I just bought the Uz'
I put y'all in them front page articles
I got 'em lookin' at the Billboard charts confused
And I still freestyle to start the Clue's
Rampin', I'm that kid who 'bout the dough
I done copped the shit and started droughts before
Shit platinum, out the door
Now I drop the top down just to shout the whore
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
Holla back, young'n (Woo, woo)
Holla back (Woo, woo)
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