เนื้อเพลง Up to Something - Metro Boomin

[Young Thug:]
Ayy

Drank, takin' a sip of that Act (Blow it)
Flood all my b*tches in that (That way)
I'm in the projects without Pat (Ayy)
My jewelry leave 'em blind like bats (Bling)
Diamonds for her in the back (Blaow)
Hit that lil' b*tch from the back (She stacked)
Ask me like how I do that? (What?)
Pop a lil' xan and relax (Yeah)
About my racks, you get whacked (Pew pew pew pew)
If he got racks, he get taxed
Five, four, three, two, one, attack (Go)
Dead, tell all my whoadies hit that
P*ssy n*gga, they some rats (What?)
He swung on my pockets, they fat, no catch
But all my b*tches they brats
Pop a lil' perky, relax (Turn up, turn up)

These n*ggas up to somethin' (Hmm, ayy)
She need to s*ck or somethin' (She need to f*ck or somethin')

I'ma wake up for somethin'
I fell in love with nothin' (Yeah)
B*tches, they do it for me
Stuck on me, gluin' somethin' (Yeah)
Patrick Swazey, Swazey, Swazey, save me
All my b*tches get it, never lazy
All my pockets full like they pregnant
Y'all n*ggas still hatin'
Dice in the middle
I'ma shoot it with precise in the building
F*ck that b*tch because she likin' my riddles (Ayy)
White on her head, I got lice and I'm buildin' (Ayy)
Lil' mama ready, she Tyson, go get her (Whoa)
I can't complain, I got ice in my bezel (Ayy)
I'm not racist, I got white in my Bentley (Hey)
Caught a rabbit, it was ice all up in it (Ayy)
Hell yeah (Yeah yeah)
Call me mister mister Porsche (Yeah)
Pockets swole with no abortion (Yeah)
I sleep soft, I'm never snorin' (Yeah)
Talk to b*tches when I'm borin' (Yeah)
Your money little like a Yorkie
I open your head up with a forty (Bap)
I think I'm gettin' back to the old me
Yeah, I'm gettin' back to the old me

[Young Thug & Travis Scott:]
These n*ggas up to somethin' (Hmm, ayy)
These n*ggas f*cked it up, shh (Ayy)

[Young Thug:]
Drank, takin' a sip of that Act (Blow it)
Flood all my b*tches in that (That way)
I'm in the projects without Pat (Ayy)
My jewelry leave 'em blind like bats (Bling)
Diamonds for her in the back (Blaow)
Hit that lil' b*tch from the back (She stacked)
Ask me like how I do that? (What?)
Pop a lil' xan and relax (Yeah)
About my racks, you get whacked (Pew pew pew pew)
If he got racks, he get taxed
Five, four, three, two, one, attack (Go)
Dead, tell all my whoadies hit that
P*ssy n*gga, they some rats (What?)
He swung on my pockets, they fat, no catch
But all my b*tches they brats
Pop a lil' perky, relax (Turn up, turn up)

[Young Thug & Travis Scott:]
These n*ggas up to somethin' (Hmm, Hell yeah, ayy)
She need to s*ck or somethin'