Young Dolph (Rich Slave) Ft. Key Glock – No Sense
Young Dolph comes through with yet another new song titled “No Sense” featuring Key Glock. This is the 11th Track on the Album Rich Slave and is right here for your fast download On Musicbleep.com
The Memphis rapper comes back with a 16-track venture a very long time subsequent to resigning—and unretiring—from rap.
Not long ago, fans were disillusioned to hear that Young Dolph was resigning from rap. It just took him fourteen days un-resign and the next day he declared that he was dealing with a collection. We’ve at last gotten Young Dolph’s task, a collection named Rich Slave, and the spread craftsmanship itself says a lot with respect to the message behind the music.
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Download Young Dolph (Rich Slave) Ft. Key Glock – No Sense MP3
Young Dolph (Rich Slave) Ft. Key Glock – No Sense LYRICS
[Intro: Young Dolph]Yeah, yeah (Supah Mario)
(That boy Cassius) Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Hey (Hey, that boy Cassius)
That stiff dawg shit, nigga, uh
[Verse 1: Young Dolph]Skinny-ass nigga in some big Balenciagas
My girl was mad at him so I took the bitch shoppin’
Drankin’ champagne, spend the racks all in Prada
Everybody know that he a big shit popper
Smokin’ ice cream, rollin’ on some peach cobbler
Hitters on the payroll and a couple doctors
Why the fuck you think I pour up all of this Wockhardt?
Hit the alarm on the ‘Rari and it go (Brrt, brrt)
Park the ‘Rari, jump in the Challenger (Skrrt, skrrt)
Feds watchin’ me so I scramble ’em (Shakе ’em up)
Had your bitch at the room, but I had to put out
She too freaky, nah, I couldn’t handle her (Damn)
My young niggas walk around with chandeliers (Damn)
Yeah, chandelier the shit Khaled talkin’ ’bout (Damn)
Dolph hit the club, then the bitches comin’ out (Damn)
I heard the opps in the club, nigga, point ’em out (Bitch)
Nigga, stop all that hidin’ and runnin’ ’round (Rrah)
I make your broke-ass brother gun you down (Rrah)
Damn, you too thick, girl, turn around (Rrah)
Lemme smack it one time and see how it sound
Millionaire but I make my boy lay you down
They don’t give a fuck, they don’t play around
Somebody text me, so I look down
My bitch waitin’ on me in a Gabbana gown (Gabbana gown)
[Verse 2: Key Glock]Yeah, bitch, I still wear Gucci
I’m chillin’ with a groupie, beatin’ up her coochie (Beat it up)
Uh, Glizock, my life a movie (Glizock)
Guess who shoot it? Your bitch, I do’s it (I do)
Uh, ballin’ real hard, no recruiting, yuh (On God)
Paper Route winnin’, never losin’, uh (Gang)
Before I drop the top, I been ruthless, yuh
Give it to ’em raw like sushi, uh (Raw)
Uh (Yuh), yuh (Yuh), still goin’ dumb (Dumb), uh
Mr. Glock, the baguette don, yeah (Baguette)
Exotic smoke in my lungs, ooh (Yeah, yeah)
I really came out of them slums (Out ’em)
I’m finna buy me a house with a pond (Yeah, yeah)
Yeah, and I put this shit on my moms, yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I think I was born with a gun (Yeah, yeah)
I’m a son of a gun, uh (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Bitch, you know where I’m from, yeah (Bitch, uh)
South Memphis, filled up with villains and gremlins
Lil’ niggas with extensions on guns (Thirties), yeah
Don’t play with the kid, you know how I get (You know it)
I get that shit done (Done), uh
Maybach on my wrist, this young nigga lit (Lit)
And a Porsche on my guns (Woo), duh (Duh)
[Outro: Young Dolph]Shit don’t make no sense (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
This shit don’t make no sense (No sense)
This shit don’t make no sense (No sense)
Shit don’t make no sense (Make no sense)
Shit don’t make no sense (No sense)
Yuh
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