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Luh Tyler - Mr. Skii Album Lyrics



Luh Tyler - Mr. Skii Lyrics
(Featuring Kodak Black, Veeze, Bossman Dlow, BLP Kosher, Trapland Pat)






Been Working

Nigga (PBell)
Yeah
Nigga, Mr. Too Skii, nigga
Yeah, gang, gang, nigga
(Dxnte, you snapped on this one)
Yeah, skii

I ain't never had a job, but, nigga, I been workin' (yeah)
Outside with a thirty ball (uh), I feel like Stephen Curry
Roll the gas up in a ball (nigga), it got my vision blurry (yeah)
We been steppin' on they neck (yeah), no, we don't show no mercy (show no mercy)
Bae, I might spend a check (yeah), but I ain't buyin' purses (I ain't buyin' purses)
It cost an arm and a leg (for what?) for a couple verses (for a couple verses)
I'ma ball on a nigga, go and get my jersey (go and get my jersey)
My bitch thicker than a snicker (ugh), yeah, she don't need no surgery (don't need no surgery)

I cause a scene
When I step inside the room, everybody like, "Who is he?" (Like, "Who is that?")
They said, "What's your name?" I just told them, "Mr. Too Skii"
Got her on her knees, didn't I tell you your bitch was a freak?
I got Balenci' on, I stand on business in designer sneaks
I told bro, "F*ck the beef," you tryna eat? Lets get straight to the cheese
Me and brodie smokin' on some- you can't even breathe (damn)
If it ain't about that business, I ain't even tryna speak (shh)
Only thin' I like to really talk to is the f*ckin' beat (on God)
Nigga barely gettin' sleep, I been grindin' all week (on God)
Chillin' with my super freak, eat me up and then she leave (ugh)
Hate when broke niggas come 'round me, man, I swear that's my pet peeve (no cap)
We gettin' geeked up in the party, but we still on Q's and P's
Boy, you can't get high as me, boy, you can't get fly as me (no cap)
You can't get a verse for free, boy, you gotta pay that fee (no cap)
Her ass can't fit inside the seat, told her, "Let me get a piece" (come here)
All the ice, I'm 'bout to freeze, diamonds on me, 'bout to ski

I ain't never had a job, but, nigga, I been workin' (yeah)
Outside with a thirty ball (a thirty ball), I feel like Stephen Curry (like Stephen Curry, bitch)
Roll the gas up in a ball, it got my vision blurry (my vision version)
We been steppin' on they neck (damn), no, we don't show no mercy (won't show no mercy)
Bae, I might spend a check (yeah), but I ain't buyin' purses (ain't buyin' purses)
It cost an arm and a leg (what?) for a couple verses (couple verses)
I'ma ball on a nigga (yeah), go and get my jersey (go and get my jersey)
My bitch thicker than a snicker (ugh), yeah, she don't need no surgery (don't need no surgery)

Nigga, gang
Yeah, Mr. Too Skii, nigga
Yeah, Mr. Skii, nigga (phew, phew, skii)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Donte Ononiewu, Parker James Bell, Pavle Kostic, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Met Gala

Shoo-shoo
Shoo-shoo
Skii
Gang, nigga (thanks, Yakree), ayy, on gang
Nigga, yeah, ayy, let's do it

Yeah, in this bitch high as a plane
I kind of feel like a pilot
Yeah, I like to come off the brain
I never did none to write it (to write it)
Yeah, can never switch up on the gang
Know I keep them right beside me (beside me)
Yeah, I take your lil' ho, do my thing
Then I pass her right to Grimy (on God)
Yeah, I done turn into a star
So I had to go up my pricin' (yeah)
Yeah, swear yo' lil' bitch like to eat
This bitch suck me up like a Dyson (ugh)
Yeah, no, you cannot hit my weed
This shit here be punchin' like Tyson (damn)
Like how the f*ck I ride the beat?
But I don't even got me a license (what the f*ck?)

Bitch, I done went ran up my paper, now I guess these niggas don't like me (on God)
I walked in the store, I was regular, came out that bitch, I was icy (ice, yeah)
'Member they left me on seen, now all theses hoes tryna write me
I smell like that gas, so they keep askin' me, "Is you high?"
Nigga, I might be
Ran up that bag, I been stackin' my pape' to the sky
Gettin' checks like it's Nike (on God)
I don't even need the designer, I know I'm that guy, take yo' bitch in a white tee (what?)
This bitch a baddie and she got that water, oh, damn, I think she a Pisces (ugh)
Been chasin' that bag the whole summer, bitch, think I'm a plumber
She like, "Can you pipe me?" (Damn)
These niggas be stealin' my flow, probably go on YouTube, typin' Luh Tyler type beats
Lil' nigga, I stay on the road, I been doin' these shows
I just ran up a light G, yeah
A hunnid grand, niggas ain't never seen that (yeah)
I walk in the door and I'm lookin' for gas
My brother 'nem like, "Where the lean at?" (Where the lean?)
Say she want me and my brother, let's get in the ring
Man, I guess that we team taggin'
I hop on the mic and get groovy, the niggas should sign up for movies
'Cause they just gon' keep actin'
Lately, I been in my bag, I been chasin' them bands, nigga
I'm just gon' keep stackin' (I'm stackin')
Nigga, my brodie ain't playin', make you put up yo' hands
Yeah, my brodie be heat packin' (fah)
This bitch done got on my nerves, I just might f*ck her friend
'Cause the lil' bitch just keep naggin' (she naggin')
Why that boy all on the 'Gram, actin' like he got bands?
That nigga know he cap
I f*cked around, jumped on the mic and got rich off the fans
So I'ma just keep rappin' (on God)
Anytime I'm on the mic, they gon' turn up the speakers
Them niggas like, "He snappin'"

Yeah, in this bitch high as a plane
I kind of feel like a pilot (feel like a pilot)
Yeah, I like to come off the brain
I never did none to write it (did none to write it)
Yeah, can never switch up on the gang
Know I keep them right beside me (on God)
Yeah, I take your lil' ho, do my thing (ugh)
Then I pass her right to Grimy (on God)
Yeah, I done turn into a star
So I had to go up my pricin' (what?)
Yeah, swear yo' lil' bitch like to eat
This bitch suck me up like a Dyson (ugh)
Yeah, no, you cannot hit my weed
This shit here be punchin' like Tyson (like Tyson, nigga)
Like how the f*ck I ride the beat?
But I don't even got me a license (I don't got me a license, nigga)

Yeah
Skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Isak Gidgard, Jack Thierer, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Ocean

(Ayo, X9)
Yeah, ayy
Gang, skii
Yeah, ayy, ayy

Ever since the kid got rich, they don't like me (no, they don't like me)
I just ran a check up in my Nikes (in my Nikes)
I got a mean bitch, yeah, she feisty (ooh, she feisty)
Shit I'm smokin' knock you out with one hit like Mike Tyson
Stop that ridin', boy, get off my dick, you know you need a license (know you need a license)
Get my swag back, put a muzzle on and, boy, stop all that biting
Treat a ho like my name was Peter, take your bitch and pipe her
Boy, your trap ain't been workin' for you, you should just retire (you should just retire)
All day, I've been runnin' up a check, I ain't even tired (I ain't even tired)
No cap, I'm like a f*ckin' jet, you can't get no flier (you can't get more flier)
Get the head, she ain't do her job right, she ain't gettin' hired (ugh)
After I hit, she gon' tell her friend that she f*cked Luh Tyler (ugh)
I told the bitch if she let me beat it, keep it as a secret
Say you rich, boy, I gotta see it for me to believe it (yeah)
Bad lil' ho, I swear she a demon, I think she need Jesus (bad)
I'm so cold, ice got me freezin', I think I'm anemic (ice, ice)
Like a nerd, I wake up, I'm geekin' for no f*ckin' reason (yeah)
It's exotic, nigga, all this cheefin' got me f*ckin' wheezin'
Nigga crazy, say you wanna be me, boy, this shit ain't easy (shit ain't easy)
I'm ballin', bitch, I'm in the big league, you lil' niggas peewee (uh, you a peewee)
Freak ho, she just wanna eat, this bitch too easy (ugh)

What the f*ck, man? (No cap, no cap, this bitch Eazy-E)
Man, this ho too easy

F*ck a ho, kick her out the door 'cause I don't need it (I don't need it)
"You ain't gon' be shit," what they told me (what they told me)
Now I'm rich, I jumped off the bench to ball like Kobe (ball like Kobe)
Tell that boy to get off my dick, this for your bitch (this for your bitch)
Chase a bitch? Pssh, it's too much fish in the ocean (in the ocean, no cap)

No cap, man, it's too many hoes out here to be chasin' a bitch, man
Yeah, yeah
Ayy, uh, skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Ian Chow, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Stick 2 The Code

I can't switch, I stick to the code
State-to-state, I've been gettin' rich off these shows
Bust the face, I can't move my wrist, it's on froze
(Ice)
Got some pape, I went to the dentist, went gold (Skii)
We in the game, we ain't on them benches no more (Yeah)
Just left LA and I brought the pounds to the bros
Paper chasin', I don't got no time for these hoes

Zaza got my head gone, I'm geeked off these meds (Yеah)
Woke up with two redbones layin' in my bеd
I put the ho in the friend zone if the lil' bitch ain't bad
I came outside with them bands on me, hunnids all up in the bag
Got a bad bitch shakin' that ass on me, know she gon' give me that cat
Might as well gon' put a badge on you cuffin' these hoes like that
Put her in timeout, 'cause the lil' shawty don't know how to act (Yeah)
I slide on the beat like I'm on a sled (Slide, slide)

Yeah, I slide
Stick to the code, I can't never switch on the guys
If you ain't see it with your eyes, that nigga probably lied
I had a lot of friends turn to foes but I ain't them, I can't switch, I stick to the code
Real shit, nigga, no cap

I can't switch, I stick to the code
Smokin' za, I'm movin' slow
I got blue strips in my roll
She got french tips on her toes
We was broke before, but we ain't goin' back there no more
Pull up to the store right after I get my backend, I'm gone
Bro just passed the dodie, zaza got me back in my zone
(Zaza got me back in my zone)
To the top, yeah, I'm on the way (Skii)
I've been chasin' pape by the day
Wake up and take one to the face
And it's black, I mean outer space
Pounds in, brodie got the highs and the lows
Shawty told me it hurt every time that I go
Won't ever quit, I'ma be on the grind 'til I go
(On the grind 'til I go, skii, yeah)

I can't switch, I stick to the code
State-to-state, I've been gettin' rich off these shows
Bust the face, I can't move my wrist, it's on froze
(I can't switch, I stick to the code)
Got some pape, I went to the dentist, went gold (Skii)
We in the game, we ain't on them benches no more (Yeah)
Left LA and I brought the pounds to the bros
Paper chasin', I don't got no time for these hoes

Sippin' drank, smokin' this dope
Diamond chains get your main bitch out her clothes
Remain the same, I can't never change on my bros (Yeah)
Made her give me brain, shawty left a stain on my coat (Ugh)

I can't switch, I stick to the code
State-to-state, I've been gettin' rich off these shows
Bust the face, I can't move my wrist, it's on froze
(I can't switch, I stick to the code)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Leangelo Clements, Thomas Forbes, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Young Nigga

Yeah, nigga
Gang, gang, gang
Big Ski, nigga, ski
Yeah
On God
Nigga, no cap
(Spacy got the sauce, ho)
Ski

I'm a young nigga, stackin' up that pape', puttin' on for the city (for the city)
Made it happen, should've seen they face, they can't believe I did it (believe I did it)
Started rappin', finally found my way, now we got seven figures (on God)
When people see me out, they just say, "Hey, Ty, can I get a picture?"
Before a nigga come 'round tryna play, they better reconsider (Reconsider)
Hotboy, brodie keep that fire underneath his pillow (hot)
Made a way, did it on my own, ain't never need a nigga (on God)
I'm 'bout my pape', if they ain't gettin' cash
Then you won't see me with 'em (won't see me with 'em)
I'm talkin' money in my rhymes, I ain't promotin' no violence (yeah)
All these hoes on my body, I been pimpin' like Scottie
She was playin' hard to get, but I still got up inside her (ugh)
Niggas always tryna kick it, I don't do the karate (Spacy got the sauce, ho, what?)
She a good girl, but when she see me, bet she get naughty (on God)
They like, "What you like to do?" Bitch, gettin' bands is my hobby
Youngin really havin' motion, if I like it, I'll buy it (cha-ching)
Pop and Grimy, them my brothers, if I'm ridin', they ridin' (no cap)

My lil' bitch should be a stylist 'cause she stay throwin' fits (she always throwin' fits)
Like Danny said, bitch, I'm from Florida, but I Cuban'd my wrist (on gang)
I been puttin' in that work, bitch, I been droppin' these hits (droppin' these hits)
Now ma dukes don't gotta work because her son done got rich, nigga (her son done got rich)

I'm a young nigga, stackin' up that pape', puttin' on for the city (for the city)
Made it happen, should've seen they face, they can't believe I did it (believe I did it)
Started rappin', finally found my way, now we got seven figures (on God)
When people see me out, they just say, "Hey, Ty, can I get a picture?" (Spacy got the sauce, ho)
Before a nigga come 'round tryna play, they better reconsider (reconsider)
Hotboy, brodie keep that fire underneath his pillow (fah)
Made a way, did it on my own, ain't never need a nigga (need a nigga)
I'm 'bout my pape', if they ain't gettin' cash
Then you won't see me with 'em (won't see me with 'em)
Talkin' money in my rhymes, I ain't promotin' no violence
All these hoes on my body, I been pimpin' like Scottie (yeah)
She was playin' hard to get, but I still got up inside her (ugh)
Niggas always tryna kick it, I don't do the karate
She a good girl, but when she see me, bet she get naughty
They like, "What you like to do?" Bitch, gettin' bands is my hobby
Youngin really havin' motion, if I like it, I'll buy it
Pop and Grimy, them my brothers, if I'm ridin', they ridin' (the sauce, ho)

Nigga, yeah, gang, ski
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




7 AM in Munich

[ Featuring Kodak Black ]

Yeah, nigga
Ayy, ayy
Shoo, shoo
Skii
Gang, gang, nigga
Yeah

I ain't tryna do a thing but keep on runnin' it up
I see they got a couple bucks, they still ain't f*ckin' with us
Even a fan of switchin' up, I can't give no one my trust
I told that bitch she for the streets, so I can't put her in cuffs
She see these diamonds and the cheese, I bet she let me crush
Stop all that beefin' 'bout the cheese, you niggas be doin' too much
Mix the grabba with the weed, nigga, I ain't smokin' no Dutch
I'm tryna smoke the pain away, I just been rollin' it up
Did this shit all by myself, no, I don't owe these niggas nothin'
You already know how this shit get, that's why brodie keep his gun
Man, I been countin' up all these blues, this shit been f*ckin' with my thumb
You'd think my niggas was in a band how they be poppin' out with drums

Ain't nothin' like them lame niggas who be goin' through your stuff
Bitch, I ain't gon' trip, it's all the same, bae, if you don't let me f*ck
I ain't bring the shit in this cave ain't for nothin', I'ma dump
Just waitin' on a nigga to say my name, he gettin' flushed
I fell asleep on the toilet, rollin' all the way to mornin'
I don't remember bein' sober like I don't think 'bout my organs
You already know I snuck the dope in, got the Wock' way in Poland
They gon' fake it 'til you make it then gon' hate 'cause you trollin'

I told my nigga to stack them bands and I'ma stack 'em up with you
I told lil' Yak, "You gotta keep puttin' on for all the young niggas"
How the f*ck my diamonds flashin'? I ain't takin' no picture
My niggas been about that action, the way they ride with them pistols
If she ain't tryna let me f*ck, I just might try it with her sister
They say I should've been a ref', I swear the kid so official
Do my thing real quick, then cut her off, I bet she gon' miss me
Off that drink, I got her out her drawers, think she a lil' tipsy
Got a pocket full of blues on me, them bitches so crispy
Yeah, nigga, I swear I ain't been broke in a minute
I'm from Florida where we wear Cubans and take trips to the dentist
Since I turned into a boss, can't take a loss 'cause I'm winnin'

Ain't nothin' like them lame niggas who be goin' through your stuff
Bitch, I ain't gon' trip, it's all the same, bae, if you don't let me f*ck
I ain't bring the shit in this cave ain't for nothin', I'ma dump
Just waitin' on a nigga to say my name, he gettin' flushed
I fell asleep on the toilet, rollin' all the way to mornin'
I don't remember bein' sober like I don't think 'bout my organs
You already know I snuck the dope in, got the Wock' way in Poland
They gon' fake it 'til you make it then gon' hate 'cause you trollin'

You get that skrilla, nigga, don't blow it, these hoes be goin' already
Told Luh Tyler, "Lil' dog, you gotta stack your money like Perry"
You better be standin' on your shit, what them accounts talkin' 'bout
And I don't give a f*ck, you better not ever tell a bitch what you got
And I don't give a f*ck, you better not ever show your left with your right
And I don't give a f*ck, you better not ever let 'em play with you twice

Nigga
Yeah, ayy
Shoo, skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bill K. Kapri, Brandon Mitchell, Spencer Jewesson, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




TH2DH

Yeah, in the booth, gettin' high (yeah)
Goin' up, so I gotta hold it down (gotta hold it down)
Yeah, all the bad bitches outside (outside)
Freak bitch, finna take her to the house (take her to the house)
Swear I been a real nigga all my life (all my life)
Smoke five blunts, that's a high-five (goddamn)
You ain't tryna run it up, boy, you fried (boy, you fried)
Ain't shit but that money on my mind (on God)

Every single day, I be on the grind (on the grind)
All that shit fake, nigga just rhymin' (just rhymin')
Nigga, take the cap off, quit lyin' (quit lyin')
Nigga, I just wanna shine like my diamonds (ice, ice)
On the way to the top, I been climbin' (yeah)
I been smokin' Za, gettin' higher than the pilot
Stackin' all this guap, nigga, now my money pilin'
Finally, all this hard work done paid off
How the f*ck I woke up to a check on my day off? (I 'on't know)
Brodie been swingin' them sticks, he don't play golf
Got a hood bitch, she'll spray you with some mace, dog (damn)
'Til you come up, all you gotta do is stay down
In the party, brodie got it tucked, he don't play 'round (bah)
All I gotta do is spit a bar to get paid now (yeah)
And they know my bro'll lit a spark if it came down to it
Bitch at the spot, ass up and her face down (ugh)

In the booth, gettin' high (gettin' high)
Goin' up, so I gotta hold it down (gotta hold it down)
Yeah, all the bad bitches outside (outside)
Freak bitch, finna take her to the house (take her to the house)
Swear I been a real nigga all my life (all my life)
Smoke five blunts, that's a high-five (goddamn)
You ain't tryna run it up, boy, you fried (boy, you fried)
Ain't shit but that money on my mind (on God)

Ain't my birthday, but I run that cake up (run that cake up)
I'm a real stoner, fire it up on the wakeup
You just now got you some money, boy, you late, bruh
I'm tryna ball on 'em, I don't got no time to lay up
Niggas be tellin' fake stories, yeah, they made up (they cap)
She was trippin', had to tell her tie her lace up (tie her lace up)
When you finally get you some money, they gon' hate you
I ain't never need a bitch, all I need is that paper
That ho catfish, she ain't shit without makeup (catfish)
Big bitch, shorty got that ass, told her, "Shake somethin'" (damn)
Big blick, brodie's stick look like a ray gun
All these broke niggas what I gotta stay 'way from (yeah)
How the f*ck you say you got a bag, but ain't made nothin'? (But ain't made nothin'?)
If it ain't about a bag, then don't say nothin' to me (yeah)
Livin' dreams with my day-ones
Ice on my neck, young nigga spent that pape' on ten (nigga)

In the booth, gettin' high (gettin' high)
Goin' up, so I gotta hold it down (gotta hold it down)
Yeah, all the bad bitches outside (outside)
Freak bitch, finna take her to the house (take her to the house)
Swear I been a real nigga all my life (all my life)
Smoke five blunts, that's a high-five (goddamn)
You ain't tryna run it up, boy, you fried (boy, you fried)
Ain't shit but that money on my mind (on God) (Cheeze)

Know what I'm sayin'?
Yeah, nigga
Skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Adam Duggins, Charles Bobbit, Corey Evans, Darryl McCorkell, DiMario Leung, Fred Wesley, Harry Casey, Irvin Swirv Whitlow, James Brown, Josiah Muhammad, Katrina Taylor, Mark Seymour, Maurice Young, Michael Bonsu, Rick Finch, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Mr. Skii

Yeah, nigga, ayy
Shoo-shoo, skii
Uh, yeah (OhYeaChris)

Stuffin' hundreds and them pockets gettin' fat (yeah, fat)
I got four pockets full, yours flat (yours flat)
I just bought some off the rack, for a rack (for a rack)
Pussy cappin', that's a cat in a hat, yeah (in a hat)
Real shit, ain't no cap in my rap (no cap)
Bad bitch, let me smack from the back (from the back)
She a bug, you can keep her, she a gnat (she a gnat)
Real young rich nigga, yeah, I'm that (yeah, I'm that)

Blue hundreds, pink fifties in the bag (in the bag)
Young nigga got the blues like he sad (I ain't sad)
Skippin' school, I ain't like to go to class (go to class)
Sippin' juice, got me glitchin', finna laugh
Damn, lil' shawty lookin' good, but she bad (bad)
Showed these niggas love, man, I wish I never had (I never had)
Told lil' shawty, "I'm a dog off the leash"
I'm screamin' "Skii," but my niggas screamin', "Zee" (skii, zee)
Shout out to my dentist, got me screamin' "Glee" (glee)
Bitch, your bitch gon' let me hit it for the free (for the free)
Like a hurricane, I'm blowin' down these trees (down the trees)
Take a nigga main and put her on her knees (on her knees)
Higher than a plane, smokin' out the P (out the P)
Kissin' Mary Jane and I can't even breathe (I can't breathe)
Make her give me brain 'fore I make her leave (make her leave, uh-uh)
She ain't know I had a trick up my sleeve (up my sleeve)
I been grindin', still standin' on that biz (on that biz)
I'ma keep it real, tell 'em what it is (what it is)
She want me to trick on her, that's for kids (hell nah)
Tricks for kids, I ain't doin' no trickin', you lost your mind
All these rhymes off the head (yeah, yeah)
Last night, I was geeked up off the meds (uh, uh)
Woke up this mornin' with two baddies in the bed (what the f*ck?)
Kicked them out and then I went to chase a check (on gang)

Stuffin' hundreds and them pockets gettin' fat (gettin' fat)
I got four pockets full, yours flat (yours flat)
I just bought some off the rack, for a rack (for a rack)
Pussy cappin', that's a cat in a hat, yeah (that's a cat)
Real shit, ain't no cap in my rap (no cap)
Bad bitch, let me smack from the back (ugh, ugh)
She a bug, you can keep her, she a gnat (what the f*ck?)
Real young rich nigga, yeah, I'm that (yeah, I'm that)

Blue hundreds, pink fifties in the bag (in the bag)
Yeah, nigga
Young nigga got the blues like he sad (I ain't sad)
Nigga, gang, yeah
Uh
Gang, gang, gang, gang
Yeah, nigga (skii)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Christopher Nichols, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Open The Door

[ Featuring Veeze ]

(Damn, Tye, you made this bitch too?)
(Shoutout to that boy Ceg, he produced that)

Turn up, open it up, bust it open, bitch, let my brother f*ck
Been in the mall too long, I done balled too long, my goddamn ankles swole
Say she in love with the kid, we never even met, man, how is that possible?
I got the haters so mad, these niggas be sick, they need 'em a noodle bowl
He say he gettin' money, I mean, shit, he ain't gotta prove it though
I'm in this bitch with lil' Skii, I'm feelin' so wavy, I just might crowd surf
I'm takin' his bitch for a week, he 'bout to set him an Amber Alert
I whispered, "Let's f*ck," in her ear, I can't even lie, man, I suck at flirtin'

I wake up, I'm countin' a check
But it ain't even the f*ckin' first (f*ckin' first)
She want me to ice her out
I say, "Bitch, you gotta suck it first" (gotta suck it first)
I kicked that ho to the street
Now I'm feelin' like Veeze how I did that bitch the worst (Gangerski)
Bro keep sippin' that drank like he sick
I'm startin' to think he might need a nurse (damn)
I'm in this bitch blowin' exotic
I'm geeked out my mind, in a whole 'nother universe (damn)
I just go walk in the booth and I kill the beat dead
Where's the casket? I need a hearse (let's do it)
I heard that I'm runnin' out of money, he startin' to fall off
Bro probably could use a verse (nigga broke)
I get to wake up and ball
This rappin' my job, hit the booth and I put in work (yeah)
Nigga, I'm havin' a ball
I been gettin' this money, got your bitch comin' out her skirt (let's go)
I got this money comin' in from so many angles
Man, you could just call me Kurt (damn)
I'm stuffin' my pocket with racks, my shit lookin' good
Boy, I see that your pockets hurt (shit lookin' good)
If that lil' bitch ain't bad, I cut her from the team
Man, it feel like I'm doin' surgery (surgery)

This bitch asked me for a purse, I wouldn't even buy her a Perc' 30
My bank keep checkin' for fraud, all of this shit, I done purchased it
I might just open a breakfast spot, I'm deep in with syrup
She want fifteen hundred to f*ck, too bad, her pussy wasn't worth it
Roll up, pour me up, Gangerski AKA dirty cup
Fat ass ain't enough, she goin' back in, gotta get her titties done
Dog don't want no smoke, don't play with guns, these niggas some powderpuffs
This shit in my blunt, it's presidential like Obama and 'em

Man, I just keep countin' the twenties and fifties and hundreds
Man, I got a lot of them (I got a lot of them)
Whenever I speak to the fans, I be tellin' the truth
Nigga, why would I lie to them? (Why would I lie to them?)
I'm chillin' with Tye in this bitch and that boy off a 'shroom
Man, you can't get more high than him (can't get more high than him)
Everybody see the kid on the way to the top
Now they wanna ride with him (they wanna ride with him)

Yeah, uh, uh
Phew, phew, skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Karon Vantrees, Ky Roseland, Tye Beats, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Change My Wayz

(I'd really like to use cash)
(Alijah4k on the beat, shawty)

I told all my haters bye, told 'em hundreds hello
They like how I play it smooth? Say I'm a clever fellow
I got my nigga living lavish, he came from the ghetto
I told my bro to stay up tall like he got on stilettos, stacking up like Legos
I got money now so bitches acting like they preggo'
Gettin' racks like Melo
Know I got to stay on 10 I got to keep my head up
She mad 'cause I done f*cked her friend, she like you know you dead wrong

Damn, I gotta change my ways
Now it's sixty on my neck, remember my chains was fake (ice, ice)
'Member back when times were hard, we prayed for better days
But now I'm gettin' paid
Now I'm bringin' home them racks, I'm fillin' up the safe
Now I make like thirty bands, that's just to rock the stage
I cut her off, now she on Instagram, she posting pictures listening to Rod Wave
Man, ain't that a shame?
She done showed me all her love, but I still did her wrong (Mm-mm-mm)
Even though I always try my best to do her right
I always end up f*ckin' up, girl, we ain't lastin' long
I swear my brodie always keep it tucked, yeah, he gon' blast the chrome
My niggas love it when I tell the plug to go and ship them Ps
My bitches love it when I take 'em home and f*ck 'em to my songs
(On God, it's no cap, no hat, real shit)
Ayy, yeah, that's just how it be
Niggas tryna ride my wave, I'm tryna ride the beat
Bad bitch put on my scuba suit, I'm finna dive in deep
Say you got paper, I'll believe in when my eyes can see it
For that money I be feenin' man I swear I need it
They ain't think that I could do it, but I beat the odds
Biggest Skee, bitch, I'm the MVP I think I'm undefeated
(Yeah, ayy, shoo, shoo, skee)

Yeah, nigga, the Biggest Skee, nigga
Nah, not the lil' one
Skee
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




2 Slippery

[ Featuring BossMan Dlow ]

(I love you, Risk)
(Ayo X9)
Nigga, Big Za
Goddamn

I'm Mr. Too Slippery, nigga (Too Slippery, nigga)
I'm wit' the f*ckin' sharks, you wit' the fishes, nigga (wit' the fishes, nigga)
Hop straight out the Bentley, I'm the biggest, nigga (I'm the biggest, baby)
Caution sign on my neck, shit a sixty, nigga (sixty)
Yeah, I'm Mr. Too Ski, nigga
Matter fact, call me Mr. Chase-That-Cheese, nigga
Grams on my wrist, shit cost like ten Gs, nigga
I feel like Bugs, got all these carats on my teeth, nigga

Windows five percent tinted, can't even see it's me (Dlow)
I done missed a couple plays, my shit on D-N-D (damn)
Put me in the f*ckin' game, I'm a MVP (nigga)
Take you out that 'Yota, put you in a AMG (come here, baby)
Bitch, I count chicken, she know I'm the rawest, nigga
Too Slippery Entertainment, come step in my office, nigga (yeah)
Take a nigga bitch, she say, "Dlow, you be saucy, baby"
Tired of f*ckin' wit' them lames, come f*ck wit' some bosses, baby (come here, baby)
She don't want no puppy, she want a big dog (big dog)
Washed my clothes the other day, found a ten ball (ball)
Flip phone for the juug, this a throwaway (brr)
I'm ridin' wit' some shooters, we look like Golden State (hrr)

I'm Mr. Too Slippery, nigga (Too Slippery, nigga)
I'm wit' the f*ckin' sharks, you wit' the fishes, nigga (wit' the fishes, nigga)
Hop straight out the Bentley, I'm the biggest, nigga (I'm the biggest, baby)
Caution sign on my neck, shit a sixty, nigga (sixty)
Yeah, I'm Mr. Too Ski, nigga
Matter fact, call me Mr. Chase-That-Cheese, nigga
Grams on my wrist, shit cost like ten Gs, nigga
I feel like Bugs, got all these carats on my teeth, nigga

In my bag, my pockets deeper than the sea, nigga
You don't bring nothin' to the plate, then I can't eat wit' you
All that shit, you doin' fake, you just a pretender
They say my flow so cold, but I still bring the heat, nigga (ha)
I peep niggas, say I got some bread, so they wan' be with us
Bad bitch, hair and nails done, that shit on fleek, nigga
You ain't f*ck 'cause you ain't him, but she let Ski hit her
I'ma run me up that cheese and walk these beats, nigga

I'm Mr. Too Slippery, nigga (Too Slippery, nigga)
I'm wit' the f*ckin' sharks, you wit' the fishes, nigga (with the fishes, nigga)
Hop straight out the Bentley, I'm the biggest, nigga (I'm the biggest, baby)
Caution sign on my neck, shit a sixty, nigga (sixty)
Yeah, I'm Mr. Too Ski, nigga
Matter fact, call me Mr. Chase-That-Cheese, nigga
Grams on my wrist, shit cost like ten Gs, nigga
I feel like Bugs, got all these carats on my teeth, nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Devante McCreary, Ian Chow, Tyler Meeks, Youusef Mahmoud
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




First Show

Gang, ayy, yeah
Yeah, ayy
I'm on some different shit, feel me?
Yeah, gang

They like, "Damn, boy, you got your own flow, you on some different shit" (yeah)
This ho gettin' on my nerves, I need a different bitch
I don't wear designer, I be steppin' in some simple shit (on God)
Oh yeah, I'm finna pop my shit (oh, yeah, Chris) like a pimple, bitch
Tell me how you hatin' on a nigga you don't even know (what the f*ck?)
Hoes be out here really cap, call 'em Pinnochio (Pinnochio)
I would never switch up on bro, I'm stickin' to the code (to the code)
Niggas hatin' on my motion, this shit gettin' old
At my first show, I might have your bitch front row (front row)
White bitch look like Elsa, had to let her go (let her go)
I'm really snappin' in this rap, just had to let you know (let you know)
A nigga high but sometimes I be feelin' low (feelin' low)
I'm tryna run that money up, I need my hundreds all in rolls
I'm in Tallahassee, nigga, uh, with the Seminoles
Got a nigga snappin' back to back, I'm really in that mode
Jump inside that Trackhawk and I'ma whip it like some dough (whip it up)
Jump inside that Trackhawk, yeah, you can hear the motor (yeah)
I been kissin' Mary Jane, you can smell the odor
Young, steady gettin' wiser as I'm gettin' older (gettin' older)
I needa go and grab a coat, my heart been gettin' colder (gettin' colder)
I'm John Cena in this rap, no, you ain't seein' me
It's a bad white bitch, she come from Tennessee (Tennessee)
I ain't f*ckin' with that jit, he ain't no friend of me (no friend of me)
Luh Tyler snappin' on the beat, you feel the energy (energy)
Young nigga raw as f*ck, I'm already knowin'
I was talkin' to Luh Nard he told me, "Keep goin'" (oh, yeah, that's gang)
I just jump up on the beat and I just keep flowin'
I been runnin' up a check, the money steady growin' (stack it up)
I been runnin' up a check, I want my money tall (money tall)
I'ma put my nigga on, so now we all ball (we all ball)
On all ten standin' tall, I can never fall (never fall)
A nigga feel like John Wall, I just wanna ball (wanna ball)
I be on the paper race, gettin' to the cake (to the cake)
If you ain't on the money chase, then we can't relate (can't relate)
A nigga feel like Frosted Flakes, I been feelin' great (feelin' great)
You won't catch me in the mix, a nigga out the way (out the way)
You can tell a nigga booted, look into my eyes (in my eyes)
I been kissin' Mary Jane, right now, we in the sky (we in the sky)
Uh, uh, uh, uh, feelin' like that guy
Kick that bitch straight out the spot, tell the ho goodbye
I get dumb on the beat, but I be movin' wise (goin' stupid)
You can't see me in this rap, it ain't no need to try

Ayy, yeah
It ain't no need to try
Skee
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Christin Nichols, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Stayed Down

[ Featuring Trapland Pat, BLP KOSHER ]

(Damn, Tye, you made this bitch too?)
(Baby, give me some cash)
(COUPE)
Skii
Gang, nigga, yeah

Stayed down and now we goin' up, that's what they hate to see (they hate to see)
I come straight off the head, this rappin' easy as my A-B-C's (my A-B-C's)
I'm in the booth and I just rolled an eighth up full of J to Z's (phew)
Man, I think I'm addicted to that money, I can't stop chasin' cheese (chasin' cheese)
Take his bitch, I kinda feel like God, I had her on her knees (uh)
My brodie outside, think he playin' COD, he keep it in his jeans (frrt, fah)
I made it out, Luh Tyler beat the odds, he livin' out his dream (my dream, nigga, yeah)
On the rise, I know we on the way, I'm comin' with my team (with my team, nigga)

Erase him with that lead, extended Dickson, no Ticonderoga
That's a hard pill to swallow, read about the whale and Jonah
Tyler got me second hand smoke, I guess that I ain't sober
Somethin''s fishy, I'ma pop the chop, that bitch from Nova Scotia
Florida man, before I saw snow, I cracked an avalanche
Colt .45 and two shots like the Afroman
I be peepin' all the opps, pussy, check the CAT scan
F*ck your body, my lil' dog'll catch a hat, man
Water, my bitch bad, she drink matcha tea
Ayy, ayy, I'm gettin' chicken like it's Jollibee
But I don't like how people pick and choose a time to rock with me
They talked to me like a child, I got rich, now they speak properly, water

Yeah, Salt Lake City, I done brought Utah the jazz (duh, duh, duh)
Double 0, I'm Jordan Clark when it's time to spaz (Double 0)
You ain't even got connections in the jungle, boy, you bound to lag
They say I'm Collin Sexton back in 'Bama, now they hate the jazz (yeah)
I tried to tell my last bitch I barely sleep 'cause I be up trappin' (Trapland)
Third shift, wrappin' up gifts, sealin' up, packin'
Yeah, stay focused, you a turtle, pickin' up trash and (you a turtle)
I can remix the whole square and still have 'em matchin'
Yeah, this some shit you never heard and never seen before (duh, duh, duh)
I feel like Leonard Marshall rockin' seventy, sendin' thirty more (thirty)
Ayy, we just flew into the 404 (brrt)
Wilt Chamberlain, pull up, chains danglin', bet this shit gon' float (yeah)

Ice on me got me freezin', think I need a coat (ice, ice)
Niggas actin' different for no reason, switched out on the bros (yeah, on the bros)
My dog been gamblin' with his life like he don't got no hope (hope)
Just like the bakery, I run that bread, I get it by the loaf (I get it by the loaf)

I'm out the way, I'm in Atlanta, chillin' with my twin (with my twin)
Yeah, if you hit me on that other line, we could get 'em in (get 'em in)
The kid just woke up, went and blew a bag, and ran it up again (ran it up again)
He ain't even much our kind, he don't play to win (he don't play to win)

It costs to be the boss, I thought outside the box to be the boss
They tryna hassle jit', he kicked 'em off like David Hasselhoff
I got rid of that lil' fire below so I could start to save a lot
I remember skatin' Weston Park, long live Adelkoff
I don't go against the grain, I beat the grain, I'm makin' mochi
Bought a chain, it's doin' figure eights, called it Zamboni
If it's beef, we do carpaccio, I do not bologna
Pasta in my pocket, .40 cals look like rigatoni

Duh, duh, duh
Water
Phew, skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Allassne Tope, Benjamin Landy-Pavlov, Patterson Menard, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Ain't Come to Chill

Yeah, nigga
Ayy, ski, ski
Gang, gang, nigga
Ayy, nigga, yeah

Step inside the club, get it T'd up
I ain't come to chill, bitch, I came to pick this cheese up (on God)
Pull up to the stu', roll some trees up
Then a nigga walk inside the booth, f*ck the beat up (nigga)
Cuban on my neck got me freezed up (ice, ice)
I don't even got my mask on, but I'm skied up (skii)
I'm in MIA with my feet up (yeah)
The only thing I really need is pape', I don't need love (I don't need love)

Who that talkin' down on me? Nigga, speak up (speak up)
Feel like Bugs Bunny, all these karats on my teeth, bruh (glee)
I ain't finished talkin' shit 'til the beat done (yeah)
All night in the booth, I ain't even get no sleep, cuz (on God)
Diamonds wet, think I got 'em out the sink, bruh (ice, ice)
Cuban on my wrist, bad bitch wanna link up (wanna link up)
Tryna pull me down, I don't even budge
Nigga mad 'cause I live the life that he dreamed of (nigga, what?)
Tryna pull me down, nigga, I won't let 'em (yeah)
Spit some rhymes on the beat, now we livin' better (yeah)
Swear my brodie love grabbin' P's, that's his favorite letter
Put her on her knees, then I act like I ain't never met her
Cruisin' through the city chasin' cheese, tryna get that cheddar (yeah)
I'ma have that bitch screamin, "Ski" when I put that leg up (ski)
Nigga told me that he goin' broke, told him keep his head up (uh)
Took his bitch and made her give me throat, now she say she fed up (uh, uh)
Told my dog it's time to ball, let's go stack them bands up (yeah)
Got your lil' bitch out her drawers, tell her pick her pants up (nigga)
Brodie got somethin' in the car, make you put your hands up (grrah)
Nigga, I stayed on the grind, now my neck and wrist is bust (ice)
We gon' make it to the top, tell them niggas, "Just trust"
On the stage at the party, watch the fans go nuts
Bitch, I'm higher than a kite, what the f*ck I rolled up? (Rolled up what?)
Brodie got that shh in, tell 'em come and score somethin' (come and score)
Nigga grindin' all winter, pop shit the whole summer
It ain't shit to spend these bands (yeah), nigga, I know more comin' (on God)
Hit me up without no hands, damn, lil' shawty know somethin' (uh)
Broke as hell, niggas model, well, go start a GoFundMe (what?)
You talkin' cash, pull it out, let's see who got the most money (me, nigga)
I'm with his bitch, he like, "Damn, Tyler took my ho from me" (yeah)
Them pink fifties and them blues, yeah, I got 'em both on me (yeah, yeah)
He think he seein' Mr. Skii, huh, lil' bro funny

Step inside the club, get it T'd up (yeah)
I ain't come to chill, bitch, I came to pick this cheese up (on God)
Pull up to the stu', roll some trees up
Then a nigga walk inside the booth, f*ck the beat up (well, damn)
Cuban on my neck got me freezed up
I don't even got my mask on, but I'm skied up (skii)
I'm in MIA with my feet up (yeah)
The only thing I really need is pape', I don't need love (what?)

Yeah, uh, uh
Only thing I really need is pape', I don't need love
Yeah, nigga
Shoo-shoo-shoo, skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Jack Thierer, Slayer, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Gotta Lose To Win / What you Think Now

[Gotta Lose To Win]

(Godlow on the track)
Yeah, ayy (Yeah)

Feel like sometimes, you gotta fail just to end up winnin' (On God)
Feel like sometimes, they don't even care how a nigga feelin' (No cap)
I hope everybody doin' well, standin' on that business (How y'all doin'?)
Tell all my cousins in Lake Wales that I f*ckin' miss 'em (I miss y'all ass)
I told that bitch to keep it real, but she ain't f*ckin' listen (She ain't listen)
They say they real, whole time they fake, you better not trust these bitches (Don't trust these bitchеs)
Florida boy, I got that pape', went to go see the dеntist (Skii)
They say they love you, but they wouldn't have changed if they really had meant it (Yeah)

Young nigga jumped inside the game and made it up out the city
No, I don't really care for all this fame, but I guess this what come with it (I guess)
Niggas mad I got this guap, they wish that I was poor (I was poor)
Won't let 'em trick me out my spot, no, I ain't fallin' for it (I ain't fallin' for it)
Ridin' 'round, my brodie keep like thirty shots or more (Frrah)
I ball on niggas, treat this shit somethin' like a sport (On God)
They love me now, but when I was broke, nobody ain't show support
Yeah (Ayy)

I want mama in a mansion (Yeah)
I want all my niggas winnin' (Yeah)
I want all my diamonds dancin' (Ice)
I want shawty out her panties (Yeah, yeah, ayy)
I don't know why you niggas just can't stand me (Can't stand me)
I'm just tryna put on for my family (For my family, ayy)
I ain't been broke in a minute (In a minute)
Lately, I been runnin' up these digits (These digits)
Took a couple losses, now we winnin' (Yeah, yeah, ayy)
Took a couple losses, now we winnin' (Now we winnin')
Took a couple shots and now I'm spinnin' (Now I'm spinnin')
I hope God forgive me for the sinnin' (For the sinnin')

Feel like sometimes, you gotta fail just to end up winnin' (Yeah)
Feel like sometimes, they don't even care how a nigga feelin' (Nah, they don't care)
I hope everybody doin' well, standin' on that business (On God)
Tell all my cousins in Lake Wales that I f*ckin' miss 'em (I miss y'all bad)
I told that bitch to keep it real, but she ain't f*ckin' listen (She ain't listen)
They say they real, whole time they fake, you better not trust these bitches (Don't trust these bitches)
Florida boy, I got that pape', went to go see the dentist (Skii)
They say they love you, but they wouldn't have changed if they really had meant it

[What You Think Now]

Look, ayy
Skii
Man, you know what it is, man, Mr. Skii checkin' in, you feel me?
Yeah
Ayy
Gang, nigga
Ayy, listen here, check me out, check me out (Godlow on the track)

I done put in all this work, now it finally paid off (Yeah)
Sometimes, I be feelin' down, I ain't gon' lie, them days hard
Blind to all the bullshit, I kinda feel like Ray Charles (Damn)
I told my dog that life's a gamble, he say he don't play cards (What?)
I just made a cool twenty-piece off like eight bars (Damn)
Bro push the pedal to the metal like we in a race car (Skrrt)
All my diamonds wet as hell, they somethin' like a raindrop (Ice)
They ain't think the kid would be shit, wonder what they think now (Yeah)

This 'za got my eyes low as hell like I'm from Shanghai
Call me Mr. Take Your Ho, I make you tell your main bye (Damn)
You niggas cannot f*ck with me, I'm sorry, I just can't lie (On God)
Keep it P, I play it cool, ain't never been no lame guy (No cap)
In the booth, I'm high as hell 'cause I been rollin' straight 'za (Straight 'za, nigga)
Nigga, you ain't smokin' gas, boy, I can tell you ain't high (You ain't high)
Thought that nigga was my dog, like how the f*ck you change out? (How the f*ck you change out, man?)
I put you in position, how the f*ck you change on me? (That's crazy)
Late nights, I'm up thinkin', put my pain on beats (On God)
This shit get real up in the field, you better put on your cleats (On your cleats)
I been goin' HAM for real, I'm stayin' up out the beef (Up out the beef)
All this water on me, look like I jumped out the sea (Ice, ice)
I don't really like to talk 'til I jump on the beat (On God)
She just 'round 'cause I got cheese, lil' bitch, get off my meat (Get off my meat)
Shawty f*ck with Mr. Skii, she keep him on repeat (Skii)

I done put in all this work, now it finally paid off (Yeah)
Sometimes, I be feelin' down, I ain't gon' lie, them days hard (Oh yeah)
Blind to all the bullshit, I kinda feel like Ray Charles (Yeah)
I told my dog that life's a gamble, he say he don't play cards
I just made a cool twenty-piece off like eight bars (Yeah)
Bro push the pedal to the metal like we in a race car (Skrrt)
All my diamonds wet as hell, they somethin' like a raindrop (Ice)
They ain't think the kid would be shit, wonder what they think now (Yeah)

I wonder what they think now, yeah, nigga
Ayy
All that talkin' down, I proved you niggas wrong, though, nigga
Yeah, skii
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Eric Godlow, Tyler Meeks
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Back to: Luh Tyler


On August 23, 2024, Luh Tyler released his mixtape, titled Mr. Skii. The tape features guest appearances from fellow American rappers Kodak Black, Veeze, Bossman Dlow, BLP Kosher, and Trapland Pat.
-Wikipedia
Performed By: Luh Tyler
Featuring: Kodak Black, Veeze, Bossman Dlow, BLP Kosher, Trapland Pat
Genre(s): Rap
Released: August 23rd, 2024
Year: 2024

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