Yeat – Stay Up Lyrics

Stay Up

Yeat

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"Stay Up." - Yeat

Thursday, 22 October 2026, 02:41 am

Album: Wake Up Call

Track No: 07

(Mikey, you ain't shit!)
Man, this money don't make sense (yeah)
But I'm still countin' these pesos
Lately, I'm stuck on the bench (bench)
But I'm still gettin' this bankroll
She said, "Boy, I wanna have sex" (let's fuck)
Come over, you on the table (oh yeah)
I got the gold all on my neck (my neck)
And I'm still sippin' this maple (let's go!)
I'm rockin' Christian Dior, and G-Star RAW
I started talkin' my shit and my shit popped off
And I never went broke, only worked one job
Mix the yay with the molly, I got lockjaw
Yeah, I'm throwin' cash, don't care, cash layup
When I hop on this song, I'm a tax payer
Rockin' too much water while the cats lay up
Work hard all night, take drugs, stayed up
Fresh on bud
They, know, that, I can fly like a duck
Run through the bugs, free all my cuz
They hate it, I see it, nobody show love
If I see 12, what the fuck, I'ma run
I'm smokin' exotic, I'm smokin' on Runtz
The money keep callin', I know it'll come
So pass me the blunt, light it like I'm buzzed
No, I'm not your friend, no, I'm not your cuz
I'm squashin' these bugs, I do what I want
She told me, "Come bone", that filet mignon
I'm doin' these drugs, make me feel at home
Could this shit get worse? I think I am cursed, wishin' the worst
Doin' these drugs got me talkin' in cursive
Man, that booty look better in person
This shit hot and sizzlin', scorchin'
Had no money so I made a fortune
Spend my money, my money extortion
Like a mummy, I'm wrapped up in goat skin
But I know that money make the world spin
Smokin' gas, goin' up like a ghost did, yeah
Smokin' gas, go up like ghost did
Man, this money don't make sense (yeah)
But I'm still countin' these pesos
Lately I'm stuck on the bench (bench)
But I'm still gettin' this bankroll
She said, "Boy, I wanna have sex" (let's fuck)
Come over, you on the table (oh yeah)
I got the gold all on my neck (my neck)
And I'm still sippin' this maple (let's go!)
I'm rockin' Christian Dior, and G-Star RAW
I started talkin' my shit and my shit popped off
And I never went broke, only worked one job
Mix the yay with the molly, I got lockjaw
Yeah, I'm throwin' cash, don't care, cash layup
When I hop on this song, I'm a tax payer
Rockin' too much water while the cats lay up
Work hard all night, take drugs, stayed up

Writer(s): Yeat, Mike Frost.

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