DJ Chose & Gucci Mane - You a Dime Lyrics
(Ain’t that DJ Chose over there?)
(Hmm, look like DJ Chose)
Your momma must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your granny must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your aunty must be fine (Hey, fine)
‘Cause damn, you a dime (Hey, dime)
Your sister must be bad (Hey, bad)
Your friend must be bad (Hey, bad)
Your hater must be mad (Hey, mad)
‘Cause damn, look at that ass, yeah
Five, six, seven, eight, uh
Let them bitches hate
Seven, eight, nine, ten (Ten)
You fuckin’ ten
Your momma must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your granny must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your aunty must be fine (Hey, fine)
‘Cause damn, you a dime (Hey, dime)
Look how she pop (Look how she pop)
I’ma do what she say, she can call me Simon (You can call me Simon)
She such a fuckin’ dime, I’ma call her dime, yeah (I’ma call her dime)
Uh, if she got that WAP, I’ma take her shoppin’ (I’ma take her shoppin’)
Damn, I seen her momma and her momma thick (Thick)
I ain’t gon’ trip (Yeah) but if I hit, I’ll pay her momma rent
Hol’ on, hol’ on, wait (Wait)
That’s too far (That’s too far)
She say she drive stick but no the one that’s in the car (Skrr)
Yeah, I’ma let her ride (I’ma let her ride)
And her sister bad too, I can’t decide (I can’t decide)
Hahaha, but I’m tryin’ (But I’m tryin’)
Don’t let me meet your cousins ’cause I know they fine (‘Cause I know they fine)
Your momma must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your granny must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your aunty must be fine (Hey, fine)
‘Cause damn, you a dime (Hey, dime)
Your sister must be bad (Hey, bad)
Your friend must be bad (Hey, bad)
Your hater must be mad (Hey, mad)
‘Cause damn, look at that ass, yeah
Five, six, seven, eight, uh
Let them bitches hate
Seven, eight, nine, ten (Ten)
You fuckin’ ten
Your momma must be fine (Wop, hey, fine)
Your granny must be fine (Huh, hey, fine)
Your aunty must be fine (Hey, fine)
‘Cause damn, you a dime (Go)
Shorty fine as hell (Yeah)
But she slick as jail (Uh)
She got a sugar daddy, he play in the NLF (Woah)
You know she a dime, you can tell by how she smell (Yeah)
Her ex nigga a killer and he just came home from jail
Bitch so bad you buy her Gucci, YSL, Chanel (It’s Gucci)
She’s super [?], I went from her hair down to her nails (Nails)
All that body, baby girl, can’t keep it on the shelf (No)
And when she come around, can’t keep my hands to myself (Yeah)
She got me goin’ so hard that it got me out of breath (Ha)
Designer sheets for my lil’ freak, Versace when we slept
Don’t sleep on my lil’ [?] she the best that’s [?] (Woah)
Guwop gon’ keep her down but [?] let’s fuck up my rep (It’s Gucci)
Your momma must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your granny must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your aunty must be fine (Hey, fine)
‘Cause damn, you a dime (Hey, dime)
Your sister must be bad (Hey, bad)
Your friend must be bad (Hey, bad)
Your hater must be mad (Hey, mad)
‘Cause damn, look at that ass, yeah
Five, six, seven, eight, uh
Let them bitches hate
Seven, eight, nine, ten (Ten)
You fuckin’ ten
Your momma must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your granny must be fine (Hey, fine)
Your aunty must be fine (Hey, fine)
‘Cause damn, you a dime (Hey, dime)
(Ain’t that DJ Chose over there?)
(Hmm, look like DJ Chose)
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey