Artist: Yung Gravy f/ Avery Album: Thanksgiving's Eve Song: Slime Season 7 Typed by: AZ Lyrics [Avery] Uh, yeah Picked up and waited for you clientele Uh, pussy you a dumb boy I wish you well Uh, lighted up the ground boy I had to get a grill Yeah, I might take off if I take another chill My momma said boy don't you worry, just worry about yourself I got coma garson, I can not do no wrong I was running something else, now it's findy under that belt And they washing every stilt, and those haters everywhere And the bitches take me there, and the pills just take me there Swag on swag on me I swear, got a bag on me I swear And my pistol take you here And you make me better, least I won't be better And my wrist is where it at [Yung Gravy] Playing 21 with yo bitch, 720 with the wrist Gravy just tipped it so she lost her points real quick Aw shit, cross her up slick 360 dunk so it's 21 to 6 (Gravy Train) Said I'm always packing 6 hoes just like a revolver If you want the beef I can take your ass to Culver's Call me Mr Butter 'cause you know I spread the love I'm with your bitch in the tub man that's rub-a-dub dub Yeah I'm with a bitch named Gladys All my bitches is the baddest Avery and Yung Gravy on that fucking flex status Oh shucks, Gravy got the bucks Pull up on the scene in a baby blue tux Uh, Goddamn