Space vibes

New Generation

You Wouldn't Understand

Rockstar In His Prime

Doom

Feline with Polo G & Trippie Redd

Relocate

From My Window

Go Hard 2.0

[VERSE I: Blanco Leopardo]

yeah they call me yung mutt
in the cut smelling like some indica
all these hoes keep splitting cuffs
spilling guts
no ands, ifs, or buts
if her butt was any fatter i'd be fucked and quickly bust
splatter kids all on her mug like she's allergic to my nut
give her antihistamines
pistol green like it's a buck
trigger squeezing like i'm fiending for a reason to give up 
bend your knees
begging please like i could really give a fuck
uzi tucked against my spleen
i'll make you bleed until you rust
for the static, i'm an addict
back at it like a chiropractic crack habit
if i want it ima have it
knock you off this fucking planet
send your corpse up to the stars replace em all with fucking maggots
pants saggin'
red flaggin'
ima get the bag whether it's paper or it's plastic
all these fuckboys i be slappin'
aint got time for all your cappin’
ima conjure up my demons
whisper all their names in latin

[VERSE II: Wetto]

yung wetto
it's yung north, mane
whipping in a ford thang
gripping on the hammer
indiana
slicky fort wayne
pot filled with white dust
house color white nut
looking for the chewing
patrick ewing out a white slut
cup dirty
glock 30
murk a motherfucker quick
eastern bloc
sticker shock
custom how i rock a benz
5% on the tint looking like the babadook
fuck a fight i'd rather shoot
my youngin' hollering hootie hoo
i yell amen
hollow tips rain in
59 guerilla
i'm too real for them to cage in
southern cajun
suckers bite the pavement
told that hoe to hit my agent talking bout engagements
fuck a blame shift
i'm that motherfucker, boy
creeping thru the night
turbos breathing like they paranoid
billy bob a halle berry
wetto makaveli
northside
burn em all at the stake while singing bloody mary

YIN YANG TAPES: Spring Season (1989-1990)

Realism Vs Idealism

REALISM VS IDEALISM

[VERSE I: Wetto]

i'm with that fuck shit
pull up we get buck quick
my hoe down like faye but sometimes she can be a dumb bitch
out here since a young jit
nitrous got my lungs lit
wake up from a blackout getting head while I’m in publix
ridin' through the hood like what it do?
prolly off a pill or two
pulled that .44 out
they start talking like they scooby doo
mobbing with my potnahs
we pop in no knocking
nodding off that dope and for dessert just ate neurontin
hit a stain
make a name for a lame tik tok
northside 
grey the gang
2nd world eastern bloc
i might rock it off the flock
i might rock it off apache
i might fuck up on that bitch
if she got a pack of plan b
mane show you how that glock work
show you how to pop first
white trash young man
mop 'em up like Joe Dirt
my hoe like her throat hurt
suck it for a nip tuck
that bitch tried to tell me that I’m sick
so what that make her?
i just bought some land off my LAL 
kilo of some GLD
still the same mane gripping AKs wearing FTP
paint em like a NFT
got them scripts no PHD
my bitch brain insane but she only got her GED
gang coast to coast yea I know me a few robbers
dope game farm to table ain’t no fent up in my product
huh bruh
damn son
who the fuck raised you
cutthroats and them savages how you think I got this name boo?

[VERSE II: Blanco Leopardo]

i could show you how to get it poppin
ruby da cherry ain't got no option
all these hoes keep fuckin flockin
all these hoes tryna gimme noggin
snort a line of heron then tell her she way too toxic
yeah i'm slidin' on these bitches like my feet were made for moppin' 
i can't stop it if i wanted to
glock up in my foreign coupe
scrapin up the concrete
s500 on them 22's
motorola phone when i'm dialing up my potnah
think i'm being followed by a fed in a unmarked impala
skrilla squalla what i'm after
i get money hoe by any means
paper chasin' everyday
i keep them rocks up in my cleats
cut me with some scissors you gon see how much i fuckin bleed
but ill come back with fucking tanks and blow yo shit to smithereens
blick on me
click on me
G*59 the fuckin set
suicide til death 
i'll yell it pokin' out my fuckin' chest
live from the 5 put the 0 behind the 4 
make a point before the numbers just to let you bitches know
i got five killas and they all down to fucking ride
i can call on any of 'em if you down to fuckin die
walk it how i talk it bitch and i aint got no fuckin lisp
whisper my forbidden name and give my hand a fuckin kiss
out the mud
out the mist
ruby take the form of shadows
follow me back to the gates of hell 
we regroup at the gallows
i can smell the scent of blood and i can smell the scent of piss
leave ya body rottin' lock ya soul up in the black abyss

Hot Razor

HOT RAZOR

Glo'd Up

Lightyears (feat. Young Thug)

*** VISUALS COMING SOON***

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Feline with Polo G & Trippie Redd

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