Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Been Turnt’ by 42 Dugg. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 42 Dugg or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Nah, he pussy bro (nope)
Yeah, she lyin’ on me (bitch)
Nigga call lookin’ for his ho (where she at?)
She right here lyin’ on me (c’mon)
Like nigga, come find somethin’, yeah
Keep that iron me, yeah
Yeah, nigga play if you want to (woo)
You could pour eight if you want juice
I’ma cop wheats if I want boots (damn)
I could f*ck his bitch and his ho too (duh)
Lil’ nigga, height on him ’bout 4’2
Can’t name a nigga fuckin’ with me on school
I been chasin’ my dreams since ’02
(What you dream about? Cuh’, nothin’)
Gettin’ rich, f*ck a nigga bitch
Sellin’ that hit, still sipping’ crisp
Spent at least ten on all of my fits
F*ck a old friend, don’t be callin’ my bitch
New body Benz, twenty-five on the tint
Condo out the water, five thousand on the rent
If she ain’t talkin’ fuckin’, ho prolly gettin’ spent
Do it for my brother and I do it for the six
Durk came home, bitch, the work gettin’ strong
Wheat’s a lil’ ten, want seventy for the browns
Bitch get to playin’, put the murder gang down
Each one of my niggas, yeah, keep ‘Woods
Gotti ain’t starvin’ and Bans eatin’ good
Will did a dime, Durk did fifteen
F*ck hoes, murk, sell weed and beans
Bitch, I been turnt
And I hit her
Before I sell some weed, I’ll sell a brick first
Before I sell top, I’ll sell hit first
Yeah, bitch, I still want eighty for a gram
Fifty in the jacket, seventy-five in the pants
Bitch, I been turnt
And I hit her
Yeah (turn up), yeah (turn up), yeah (aha)
What you sippin’? Red
What you sellin’? Meds
Nigga snitchin’, dead, feds, yeah
Might find a hunnid thousand in bed
Bitch, all of my niggas is safe
Can’t none of my niggas get mail
Everybody got a phone in jail
Ringin’ (ring), ringin’
Pull my dick out now, bitch, now eat it
Give her twenty-five hunnid for no reason
Bitch, this young nigga turnt, believe me
RIP Neff, Rob, and Reesey
Free Nell, Rico and Queesey
Hellcats, Trackhawks and Demons
I ain’t never goin’ back, I mean it
Bitch, I’m still turnt
And I hit her
Yeah (turn up), yeah (turn up), yeah (turn up), yeah (turn up)