Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Uh Huh’ by 2 Chainz. 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 2 Chainz or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)
Quarter mil’ on ice, we call that bling bling, uh huh
Running up these racks on all you green beans, uh huh
Foreigns in the brick, look like a dream team, uh huh
Brick still on your wrist, I told you one thing, uh huh
Spoil my bitch, let’s get rich
Type of shit I’m on
Teach my click, know to hit
Type of shit I’m on
Take some trips, let’s get lit
Type of shit I’m on
Uh huh, uh huh
Uh huh, uh huh
Yeah, bitch head go dumb
Wrist been feeling numb, yeah
Still totin’ that gun, like he on the run
Run run, run Forest run, run Forest run, yeah
Might chase your boyfriend ’bout you
Bitch, I’m done, yeah
I drop this dick, she said you hell wit it
I bought her Chanel shoes
To match Chanel wit it
She asked for the snow
And I promise to never go tell niggas
I f*ck with this hoe, and she sent her lil’ buddy to sell wit us
Big shit poppin’
Big dick energy
Bitch, what’s poppin’
This bitch cocky
Wrist’ll get follies
Lit like Scotty
Who else getting the pills in college? Hmm (Skoob)
Quarter mil’ on ice, we call that bling bling, uh huh
Running up these racks on all you green beans, uh huh
Foreigns in the brick, look like a dream team, uh huh
Brick still on your wrist, I told you one thing, uh huh
Spoil my bitch, let’s get rich
Type of shit I’m on
Teach my click, know to hit
Type of shit I’m on
Take some trips, let’s get lit
Type of shit I’m on (yeah)
Uh huh, uh huh
Uh huh, uh huh (Tony)
Cuban link on top of a Cuban link
Another Cuban link, pussy pink bon appetite
Coming wit me you better not stink, I’ll find you a sink
You think you can f*ck with this flow, lil’ nigga, then load up a beat
Code of the streets, I live that shit, you feel that shit
They bring me whips, I don’t go to no dealership
When I met the plug, tell me where the f*ck was you?
Patna had the dog food, yaba-daba-doo
Big boy rider, drip designer
Draw down on him, I’ll outline him
Southside wit me, the whole Al-Qaeda
Sell a nigga dummy, Duct Taped flour ’em
Quarter mil’ on ice, we call that bling bling, uh huh
Running up these racks on all you green beans, uh huh
Foreigns in the brick, look like a dream team, uh huh
Brick still on your wrist, I told you one thing, uh huh
Spoil my bitch, let’s get rich
Type of shit I’m on
Teach my click, know to hit
Type of shit I’m on
Take some trips, let’s get lit
Type of shit I’m on
Uh huh, uh huh
Uh huh, uh huh