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ASAP Rocky - Long.Live.A$AP Album Lyrics



ASAP Rocky - Long.Live.A$AP Lyrics






Long Live ASAP

Uh
I thought I'd probably die in prison, expensive taste in women
Ain't had no pot to piss in, now my kitchen full of dishes
Nose bloody from that sniffin', your heroin addiction
Trigger finger itching f*ck parental supervision
This be that murder business, little Timmy got that semi
I ain't kidding hide yo kittens, hit yo childrens with that Smith an'
A bunch of ignant little niglets, hard headed, never listen
Purple sippin', finger twistin', teeth glisten like it's Memphis
A bunch of hypocritic Christians, the land of no religion
My Santa Claus was missing, catch you slippin' then it's Christmas
Motherf*ck a wish list, my ghetto was ambition
For my Benjis and my Bentley, and them bitches now I gets gets
On the road to riches, a diamond rings, designer jeans
Toking on that biscuit 'til I'm no longer existing
I wonder if they miss me, as long as I make history
Now my soul is feeling empty, tell the reaper come and get me

Who said you can't live forever lied
Of course, I'm living forever I'll, forever I'll live long
You can't ever deny
My flaws, I'm living forever I'll, forever I'll live

Riding through your city like that motherf*cka mine
Or toking on that semi, rob a motherf*cka blind
License plate says wipe me down, car from 1989
But a nigga sits so pretty, call that motherf*cker fine
Lost your motherf*cking mind, what's on your mind niggas talking down
Never talk to cops, make him talk God when I tote that 9, he ain't talking now
Tell 'em watch your spine, I mean watch your back
Better guide your track, better not look back
Now stay in line, don't step on cracks
So you break her back I'm talking 'bout your mom
'Cause there's killers in my town, making hits, sniffing lines
Out committing crimes, wait for shit to simmer down
Corrupted little minds, 8 and 9, finna shine
On the grind, do you dirty with that shimmy shimmy ya
Where they shoot without a purpose, services 'n hearses
Kids who ain't deserve it, can't survive it, then you're worthless
Strangers make me nervous, who's that peekin' in my window with a pistol to my curtains?

Who said you can't live forever lied
Of course, I'm living forever I'll, forever I'll live long
You can't ever deny
My flaws, I'm living forever I'll, forever I'll live

Pretty nigga rich, Flacko be the shit
And that bitch, know we poppin' so she boppin' on this dick
Nigga, R.I.P. to Pimp, can't forget Little Flip
And I take it out to Memphis and shout out to Triple Six

Who said you can't live forever lied
Of course, I'm living forever I'll, forever I'll live long
You can't ever deny
My flaws, I'm living forever I'll, forever I'll live
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Isaac John De Boni, Rico Love, Laura Jane Lowther, Rakim Mayers, Michael John Mule, Frank Romano, James Gregory Scheffer
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Goldie

Uh, uh
I said it must be 'cause a nigga got dough (uh)
Extraordinary swag and a mouth full of gold (uh)
Hoes at my shows they be stripping off they clothes (yeah)
And them college girls write a nigga name on they toes (right)
Niggas talk shit 'til they get lockjaw (uh)
Chrome to ya dome 'til ya get glockjaw (uh)
Party like a cowboy or a rockstar (uh)
Everybody play the tough guy (yeah) 'til shit pop off (yeah)

Let's take it to the basics, you in the midst of greatness
My Martin was a Maison, rocked Margielas with no laces
Cristal go by the cases, wait hold up that was racist
I would prefer the Aces, ain't no different when you taste it
A 40 ounce to chase it, that's just an understatement
I'm early to the party but my 'Rari is the latest
Somehow it seems girls in they late teens
Remind me your favorite jeans 'cause they naked 'cause you famous
Life's a mothaf*cka, ain't it? These other rappers anus
So tell me what your name is, I'ma tell it to my stainless
You aim it 'fore you bang it, let that banger leave you brainless
It's just me, myself and I and mothaf*ckas that I came with
Miscellaneous niggas wanna hate on me
Until I tell 'em to they face they ain't no G
Lowkey, niggas mad 'cause I'm smooth puffing Zig Zags
Tell 'em quit the riff-raff, bitching with your bitch-ass

I said it must be 'cause a nigga got dough (uh)
Extraordinary swag and a mouth full of gold (uh)
Hoes at my shows they be stripping off they clothes (yeah)
And them college girls write a nigga name on they toes (right)
Niggas talk shit 'til they get lockjaw (uh)
Chrome to ya dome 'til ya get glockjaw (uh)
Party like a cowboy or a rockstar (uh)
Everybody play the tough guy (yeah) 'til shit pop off (yeah)

Yes, I'm the shit, tell me do it stink?
It feel good waking up to money in the bank
Three model bitches, cocaine on the sink
And I'm so 'bout it 'bout it, I might roll up in a tank
'Cause my chain came from Cuba, got a lock up on the link
And them red bottom loafers just to compliment the mink
Eyes chink, rolling up that dank, blowing on that stank
What you mean? Tell me what you drink, I'm on that kissing pink
You could call me Billy Gates, got a crib in every state
Man on the moon, got a condo out in space
Open up your legs, tell me how it taste
And them niggas talking shit so tell 'em, "Tell it to my face"
Tell that bitch, hop up on my dick, rolled up on her quick
In a six, told her suck a dick, motorboat her tits
I'm the shit, niggas mad 'cause I'm smooth puffing Zig Zags
Tell 'em quit the riff-raff bitching with your bitch-ass

I said it must be 'cause a nigga got dough
Extraordinary swag and a mouth full of gold
Hoes at my shows they be stripping off they clothes
And them college girls write a nigga name on they toes
Niggas talk shit 'til they get lockjaw
Chrome to ya dome 'til ya get Glockjaw
Party like a cowboy or a rockstar
Everybody play the tough guy 'til shit pop off

(Uh, yeah)
(Uh, right)
(Uh, yeah)
(Yeah, yeah)
(Uh, yeah)
(Uh, yeah)
(Uh, yeah)
Everybody play the tough guy 'til shit pop off
(Right, right)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Chauncey Hollis, Rakim Mayers
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC






PMW (All I Really Need)

Uh, yeah, uh, yeah, uh, yeah, uh

All I think about is life, nights, sipping on Sprite
Little codeine, nigga get throwed right
Two blonde dykes wanna kiss all night
I just pray to God that the shit go right
Little arguments and the fist don't fight
F*ck a dog hoe and the bitch gon' bite
A$AP nigga, sip Cris all night so them R. Kelly hoes getting pissed on twice
Damn, how a young nigga get so nice
Young nigga cold like he sit on ice
F*ck broke, tryna be rich all life
I could've been a criminal and just rolled dice

My nuts hanging, my top back
Hoes screaming that Pac back
Throwing Westside, bandanna tied
A$AP life, got a Pac tat

Harlem world my whole block strapped
Hoes all in my jock strap
My whip white but my top black
And my bitch white but my cock black
Purple drink, got that
Tell these hoes all to twerk something
Bounce on me, bitch, hurt something
Tell her pop that pussy like it's worth something

So shawty, she a stunner and daddy he a runner
Be that pretty motherf*cker, you could call me what you wanna
'Cause I'm in love with that ass, she in love with the cash
So she shaking it fast and then making the stacks
And I'm taking it back and I'm taking her back
To the house just to bust in her mouth and I'm kicking her out

How about me and you, you and I
Take a ride to make this high
On and on and on and on
On and on and on and on
So I say pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
That's all a nigga need (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
That's all a nigga need (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
All a nigga need (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
That's all a nigga need

It's A$AP Q, where the bread at?
F*ck around and bring the hush puppies back
She f*ck me and the homies and she was cool with that
The block hot so I'm shaded in my bucket hat
Pause a little, I gotta little advice
If you f*cked her once, then you can f*ck her twice
I don't get head from hoes with overbites
We just giving out game nigga, show you're right
Born stunna nigga, turn night to bright
High as a kite in my Nike Flights
Made 30 racks it was just a flight
Flew a bitch out too it was just a night
Shawty got the booty make a nigga say "whoa"
Can I suck your titty tryna see how far I can go
Try again and again and she ain't telling me no
Sweety tell me how you feeling, can I feel on you mo'
She said I ain't f*cking for free, but ain't shit I came for
Shit, I'll pay you for it now bounce that ass on my bungie cord
Uh, yeah, whoopsie-daisy, put a good kid in your Section.80
Uh turn a baby into a lady, now here go the keys to my new Mercedes

'Cause shawty she a stripper
All you got to do is tip her
She like ballers with some money
Screaming f*ck them other niggas

Now do A through Z for a G
Panties go down to her feet
Pussy get wetter for me
Smacking that ass to the beat
Give her that diggity-D, huh

How about me and you, you and I
Take a ride to make this high
On and on and on and on
On and on and on and on
So I say pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
That's all a nigga need (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
That's all a nigga need (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
All a nigga need (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
Pussy, money, weed (yeah)
Pussy, money, weed
That's all a nigga need
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Rakim Mayers, Nikhil Seetharam, Tyler Williams, Quincey Hanley
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






LVL

(Yeah, uh)
Clams Casino, nigga (A$AP)
A$AP (uh)

Mister pistol popper (uh)
Flocko locked and loaded (yeah)
Life's a bitch and she pussy pop, know why? 'Cause I got her open (alright)
That pussy soakin' (uh)
F*ck is you promotin' (uh)
Yeah, you claim you rage, you hatin' like you live in Oakland
All my rap town niggas with the roof back
Introduce you niggas to the new swag
Make you say a nigga blew up too fast
F*ck I'm 'posed to do with all this new ass?
F*ck I'm 'posed to do with all this new cash?
Thousand dollar drawers just to hold my balls
All I ever do is let my jewels sag
Pac gone, but the juice back, get your popcorn
Juice snacks, it's a movie nigga, with a new cast
Get the news flash, that the truth back
This is boom bap, mixed with new raps
Look at all the niggas that I blew past
Hood by Air, to the durag
Nigga make way for the new jacks

(Yeah, uh, yeah, uh, uh, yeah, yeah, uh)
Uh (uh)

It's mister pistol popper screamin' "F*ck a copper"
I just bought a crispy choppa finna f*ck your block up, blocka (yeah)
Even cracked the pavement that's for niggas hatin' (yeah)
I been impatiently waitin' to show you niggas Satan (yeah)
All this talk of Illuminati ain't got a clue about me (uh)
Bitch I'm trill-maluminati and got my crew behind me (alright)
Shooters round me (yeah)
Keep them looters round me (uh)
Keep a tool around me (uh)
It'll keep you fools from 'round me
Couple of them dudes surround me
Wit' a gat, wit a strap in a backpack
When they cap cap, leave you flat
Better back back, on a fast track, ratatat, nigga that's that
Nigga pass dat, finna ash, where the hash at
Got a Kat Stacks, wit a ass, finna smash that
Make her catch that, A$AP then I pass that
Off to my niggas then she ask, "Where the cash at?

Uh, I see dead people (uh)
I need dead people (uh)
Lord Pretty Flacko, bitch, I behead people (uh)
Kneel and kiss the ring (yeah)
All hail the king (all hail the king) (yeah)
Long live A$AP put that on everything (everything, everything)

(Alright mothaf*cka)
(Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, alright, A$AP, yeah)
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Michael Volpe, Rakim Mayers
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC






Hell

Uh, uh

We use to wear rugged boots, now it's all tailored suits
Audemars Piguets for my criminal recruits
Champagne flutes, bumpin' rhythm and the blues
My partner made bad moves, he might end up in the news
Or end up in the tombs or living in the boondocks
Riding by the rulesm I'll abide by it soon
See the situation we sophisticated goons
I know you live by the gun then you die by it too
Niggas call me prophecy, swagging and philosophies
White on white wagon, call that motherf*cker Socrates
Rat ass niggas, fighting for a block of cheese
Catch me out in China stunting, yeah, I'm 'bout my guapanese
My shoe game serious, so serious, Wapanese
Niggas say I'm blessed, my bad I forgot to sneeze (Achoo)
There your reasons go, bitch
I got some tissues for your issues tell 'em blow this (bitch)

Make my money, walk straight ahead now
They countin' every day down, waitin' on me long
You know your way? Where you headin' now?
Me, I want everything (bitch) it won't take me long
Make my money, walk straight ahead now
They countin' every day down, waitin' on me long
You know your way? Where you headin' now?
Me, I want everything (bitch) it won't take me long

Roger, Roger, tell 'em roger that
It's the gold teeth, French braids, call me Project Pat
With the stocking cap, Jason mask on, probably strapped
It's the Rocky cap, turn my swag on, holla back
Throw a dollar at a bidd-itch, tell her suck my di-dick
'Cause they hatin on my cli-dick, 'cause we made it when we did it
Hate it 'cause they didn't
My mama always told me keep your mind on your money, boy you better pay attention
Ride with the pretty nigga, hoopty, no chauffeur
Paint lookin' like a drippin' smoothie, no coaster
The game's full of posers, big dog bulldozer
Pop up on 'em like toasters, wake 'em up like Folgers
'Cause Heaven need a villain like Hell need a newer idol
You could bet the crib and car, just renew the title
For now I'm po-pimpin' like them Do or Die dudes
Smoking killa but my doors still suicidal

Make my money, walk straight ahead now
They countin' every day down, waitin' on me long
You know your way? Where you headin' now?
Me, I want everything (bitch) it won't take me long
Make my money, walk straight ahead now
They countin' every day down, waitin' on me long
You know your way? Where you headin' now?
Me, I want everything (bitch) it won't take me long

It will hit you on the head
You don't even gotta hate me now, babe
Just as sheeps get led, oh
You can see where I'm going, oh
How you gonna feel now? You know what they said
Really you know that we don't come how we get down
Everyone say "Rocky ahead"
They rollin', do what he said, no they can't get it wrong

Make my money, walk straight ahead now
They countin' every day down, waitin' on me long
You know your way? Where you headin' now?
Me, I want everything (bitch) it won't take me long
Make my money, walk straight ahead now
They countin' every day down, waitin' on me long
You know your way? Where you headin' now?
Me, I want everything (bitch) it won't take me long
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Michael Volpe, Rakim Mayers, Santi White
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing






Pain

Uh, pain
Uh, pain
Uh, pain
Uh

So big you are, shining like the star
With your head in the clouds 'til somebody shoot you down
Hands on the ground, back against the wall
Tell me who you call, when no one else around

It was a lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)
Lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)
Lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)
Lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)

The future will be televised, haters getting genocide
23 and 43, I'm talking my Margiela size
My niggas is hella fly, you over accessorize
Dead alive, it's in my repertoire, forever ever high
I never lie, never tell a lie, I would testify
Set aside dreams, I'm a king ask Coretta Scott
Cute faced, fat ass, and a nice set of thighs
Rihanna weave, I need a umbrella-ella-ella, ah

Everybody knows me, shit, still ain't got no cash
Bitch, hit that flash quick, post my bad habits
F*ck you and your Instagram, match a gram, Mando
Royal blue Foams, getting head in the red Lambo'
Media take me out, TMZ all in the V.I.P
Bitch I'm hard and my loop concrete, too much Bossip if you ask me
Almost f*cked fame, but she came with money
I got two bad bitches, haters wanna take 'em from me

It was a lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)
Lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)
Lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)
Lights, camera, act-, light, lights, camera, action
Lights, camera, action, lights, camera, action (you love, you love it)

Tryna get on in this industry, acting like you're (Ruthy)
Breaking down cocaine with the EBT (oh yeah)
These male groupies doin' it however, whatever they seein' on the box
Everybody spit, everybody hot, everybody's an artist (everybody not)
S-O L-O-S-T, niggas talking dollars, getting change
In a minute I'ma lose my cool, Sprewell one year before '98
Like f*ck coach, I'm cutthroat, so what goes
Do you have for the year they say might be the end?
Better look within

Glitz and the glamours, we pose for the cameras
Ghetto niggas with me, they pose with the hammers
Ghetto girls with me, pink toes in the sandals
No dirty laundry, get your nose out my hamper
Clothes in my hamper, that Bathing Ape camouflage
Brands from Japan, you would think I was a samurai
Drop-crotch Jeremy Scott pants, bitch it's Hammer Time
Getting dirty money but I keep my hand sanitized
Li-life is what you need, won't you take a Z? Feel the breeze
Smoke the Sour Diese', hit that shit and please, act at ease
What you wanna be, like? The Black Eyed Peas, all these steezs
S-T-A-R-S, Hollywood, won't you rest in peace?

So big you are, shining like the star
With your head in the clouds 'til somebody shoot you down
Hands on the ground, back against the wall
Tell me who you call, when no one else around
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Jess Willard, Kent Jamz, Khalid Muhammed, Rakim Mayers, Soufien Rhouat
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC






Fuckin' Problems

I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
If findin' somebody real is your f*ckin' problem (yeah)
Bring your girls to the crib, maybe we can solve it, ay

Hold up, bitches simmer down (uh)
Takin' hella long, bitch, give it to me now (uh)
Make that thing pop like a semi or a nine
Ooh, baby like it raw with a shimmy shimmy ya, huh?
A$AP (yeah), get like me (uh)
Never met a motherf*cker fresh like me (yeah)
All these motherf*ckers wanna dress like me (uh)
But the chrome to your dome make you sweat like Keith
'Cause I'm the nigga, the nigga, nigga, like how you figure?
Getting figures and f*ckin' bitches
She rollin' Swishers, brought her bitches
I brought my niggas, they getting bent up off the liquor
She love my licorice, I let her lick it
They say money make a nigga act nigga-ish
But at least a nigga nigga-rich
I be f*ckin' broads like I be f*ckin' bored
Turn a dyke bitch out, have her f*ckin' boys, beast

I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
If findin' somebody real is your f*ckin' problem
Bring your girls to the crib maybe we can solve it, ay

Ooh, I know you love it when this beat is on
Make you think about all of the niggas you've been leading on
Make me think about all of the rappers I've been feeding on
Got a feeling that's the same dudes that we speakin' on, oh word?
Ain't heard my album? Who you sleepin' on?
You should print the lyrics out and have a f*cking read-along
Ain't a f*cking sing-along 'less you brought the weed along
Then ju' (okay, I got it) then just drop down and get your eagle on
Or we can stare up at the stars and put The Beatles on
All that shit you talkin' 'bout is not up for discussion
I will pay to make it bigger I don't pay for no reduction
If it's comin' from a nigga I don't know, then I don't trust it
If you comin' for my head, then mothaf*cka' get to bustin'
Yes Lord, I don't really say this often
But this long dick nigga ain't for the long talkin', I beast

I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
If findin' somebody real is your f*ckin' problem
Bring your girls to the crib maybe we can solve it

Uh, yeah, hoe, this the finale
My pep talk turn into a pep rally
Say she's from the hood but she live inside in the Valley now
Vacay'd in Atlanta, then she going back to Cali, mmm
Got your girl on my line, world on my line
The irony I f*ck 'em at the same damn time
She eyein' me like a nigga don't exist
Girl, I know you want this dick
Girl, I'm Kendrick Lamar, mmm
A.K.A. Benz is to me is just a car, mmm
That mean your friends need to be up to par
See my standards are pampered by threesomes tomorrow, mmm
Kill 'em all, dead bodies in the hallway
Don't get involved, listen what the crystal ball say
Halle Berry, hallelujah
Holla back I'll do ya, beast

I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
I love bad bitches that's my f*ckin' problem (problem)
And yeah, I like to f*ck, I got a f*ckin' problem (true)
If findin' somebody real is your f*ckin' problem
Bring your girls to the crib maybe we can solve it, ay
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Aubrey Drake Graham, Kendrick Lamar, Noah James Shebib, Rakim Mayers, Stephen Garrett, Tauheed Epps
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Wild For The Night

Uh
Wake up feeling blessed up
Pistol on that dresser
Ain't afraid to show it, I'll expose it if I dress up
Riding in that Testarossa, nigga catch up
Sipping on that syrup 'til I'm messed up like yes sir
So now I'm getting change, people looking at me strange
Like nigga switching lanes, never changed, still the same
We f*ck bitches, get paper, you f*ck niggas on papers
We walk around with lasers, you probably own some tasers
Lame niggas disgrace us, they girlfriends want date us
Got different hoes, I'm pimpin' hoes, you could tell by my pay stubs
My niggas getting right, smoking weed with dirty Sprite
I'm going wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going)

Uh, finna wild out for the weekend
Me, myself, and I my three friends
Nigga feeling froggy, then leap in, A$AP niggas finnna sneak in
Middle finger to the critics, me and my nigga Skrillex
You know we finna kill it, A$AP, we the trillest
You don't really want that Glock boy
You don't really wanna feel them shots boy
You a B boy, I'm a block boy, I'm a D boy, I'm a hot boy
Six shots got me feeling like Pac boy
Party all night, shit don't stop boy
Drunk as f*ck and I'm ready to fight
Wildin' for the night, f*ck being polite boy

Wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going
Wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going
I'm going wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going
Wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going

It's the weekend and I'm creepin' with my niggas
Drunk and disrespectful, calling women bitches
I don't mean no harm but won't you and your friends's
Meet us in the cut and we give you the business
God my witness that I only wanna kick it and your girl just said they with it
So we rolling in them Benzes
Won't you pour it up and stop the babysitting?
She got drunk as f*ck and swallowed all my kidss
Back to the Mac, tats on her back
Ass so fat, hit that from the back
When it clap from the back, she clapping it back
She flat on her back and it's back to the trap
F*ck your pack, A$AP where it's at
F*ck nigga act, get clap lay flat
F*ck your dreams, leave a f*ck nigga dreamin'
Then you sleep, and you won't come back from the nap
Benjamin 3 Stack, it's a fact, she lives in my lap
On my Out-Outkast, daddy fat, bitches on my sack
And you know them smokin' bitches rolling reefer got me open
Wildin' 'til the morning with my homies, tell 'em where we going

Wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going
Wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going
I'm going wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going
Wild for the night, f*ck being polite, I'm going

I'm going wild for the night
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Rakim Mayers, Sonny Moore, Thomas Parent, Denis Lebouvier, Mickael Dalmoro, Nicolas Vadon
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






1 Train

Feeling like a vigilante or a missionary
Tell my A$AP killers get they pistols ready
Send 'em to the cemetery with obituaries
Don't be scared nigga, is you ready?
I've been thinking 'bout all the O's in my bank account (What?)
X the hoes in my bed is 'round the same amount (What?)
Ever since this new star fame came about
Or ever since me and Drizzy started hangin' out
Young boy, let his gun bang, let his nuts hang
Transition to a Lamborghini from a Mustang
Drugs slang in the drug game with the hustling
(I know one thing) anything is better than that 1 train
Bag made of Goyard, cheffin' like I'm Boyar-
Dee, probably selling D in your local courtyard
Braids like I'm O-Dog, my la familia go hard
Down to my inlaws, they outlaws with no laws

We outlawed then I bogart, any pros that got 'proached at
With a toe-tag, get broke off, in the projects with a skateboard
I roll past and I blaze y'all like, "Doo Doo!" I hate y'all
When the beef cooked, I ate y'all like, "Mmm mmm," let's play ball
In a ballpark with all sharks and a blindfold, I rhyme cold
My K hot, your 9 cold, that bark like K9 drone that banana clip
Straight from the rip, I'll make that shirt say RIP, I'm on some shit
If I'm not the hottest then Hell must've froze over
You thought it was safe then forgot what the code was
I carry traits of a traumatized soldier
Don't look in my face, I might snap, I might choke ya
Spine right out of place, give me dap like you 'posed ta
Darts at your posters, dark nights like this I metamorph like I'm 'posed ta
I might slice my wrist or pretend like a vulture and drop off this cliff

Barely even conscious, talking to my conscience
Gettin' deeper in these flows like conches
I'm on my convict, don't drop bars, I drop prisons
Don't sell rocks seen the spectrum through the prisms
Somehow bypassed the bias and the -isms
The violence and the killin', so given
They seen my pigment and thought that was the ign'ance
Unfortunately I am not that type of niglet
But pass the pot let me skillet
Just got back to the block from a 6 o'clock with Jigga
And I'm thinkin' 'bout signin' to the Roc
But my niggas on the block still assigned to the rocks!
And I swear it hurt me soul I try to prevail
But when I preach it only hurt their sales
Like you're only gon' end up either dead or in jail
But you my nigga, wish you the best for real

When you mention my name amongst other white rappers
Or for that matter, any f*ckin' rapper,
F*ck it painter, skater, musician, trailer park dirt ditch diggin'
Burger flippin', eat, sleep, shittin' human bein'
You would be in trouble to body double or couple me
To these others 'cause comparatively speakin'
My reach is beyond the bubble that they put me in
My vision's beyond the Hubble's I huddle with Nubians
New beginning again you in school at 10, late
Radioactive's goin' gold and so? Great!
Do I give a flying duck if I'm applyin'
Love to my rhymin' plus alignin' us?
Alabama's climbin' up, wait, no I don't give a flying duck
Nothing but a buckshot, chck-pow!
Motherf*ck your life, pussy blood clot
Ain't never been no rapper this cold since 2Pac was froze
And thawed out for spot date at a Coachella show, Yelawolf!

Weed a different color like a hoodrat bra and panties
And my flow be overhead like pots and pans in pantries
Antsy 'cause I'm high like Michael Jackson penny loafers
Moonwalkin' on the sun, barefoot, with shades on
Bitch pussy smell like a penguin
Wouldn't hit that shit with my worst enemy's penis
Bitch when I say this I mean this, "Ho, I'm the meanest"
Dick so big, stretch from Earth to Venus
That molly got me nauseous, on shit, no off switch
Lawless, obnoxious, on that "suck my cock" shit
That is my synopsis, ostrich pot shit
Hoes on some God shit, stop it! You not this!
Novice, regardless, heartless and awkward
Cryin' tears of vodka prima donna at the concert
Adonis smokin' chronic 'bout to vomit gin and tonic
Just bein' honest, tell me, isn't that ironic?

Swiftly, I shift the Beamer 860
A heavy smoker so you know I brought the Blake with me
The moon's reflection off the lake hit me
You should've stayed with me
Now many Asian bitches lay with me
The face is silky like a tablecloth (uh)
My shorty gallop in the morning on the beach like a Chilean horse (uh)
Red roses drop on boxes very often (uh)
Confetti torture, drinking Henny like I'm Kenny Lofton (uh)
Outstandin'
I fixed the game between Georgia Southern and Grambling
You see us scrambling, selling Susan Sarandon (Sarandon)
The cloud of smoke like the phantom (uh)
Damn this shit tastes like fantastic
You see me comin' through in each state
Just so the lord could put the fork inside the cheesecake
Cuffed to my wrist I've got the briefcase
The gavel slam, I'm a free man, try not to eat ham (Big KRIT, shawty)

Spit like my last breath, casket rap, six deep
Eyes closed, the black is back, out come the 'Lac with flats
After that, bottles I can't pronounce, like, "How you ask for that?"
Why you ask for crack and all you had was scratch?
All I had was rap, when all they had was wack
All I wanted was love, all they had was dap
F*ck them haters and f*ck them hoes and cherish your wins
The aftermath, ask LeBron, open palm slap a bitch
Walk the plank or break a bank, I've been in the business of sinkin' ships
Chokin' niggas out with the anchors that they anchor with
Resuscitations cost the label, I'm taxing if you want a hit
Clear, f*ck your career, bitch, I was born here
Been a killer, '86er, nigga, that's my born year
Get the f*ck from 'round here, that's just my country ways
Suckin' on your momma's titty, bitchin' while I was choppin' blade
Grippin' grain, f*ckin' hoes, candy paint like Everglades
Miss me with that rapper chatter, take that shit up with my bass
I put that on my sub, how could you ever doubt me?
Most rappers hoping the world end so they won't have to drop another album
B.b. King saw the king in me, so why can't you?
In order to come up close, you'll have to dig up Cash and Elvis, too
Muddy water flow, Dixie rebel past f*ck your Louis flag
Popping benji tags on your wifey's ass
That's out of line, but in living color?
I'm more like Miya Bailey on you rap motherf*ckers, a true artist
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Rakim Mayers, Chauncey Hollis, Michael Atha, Kendrick Lamar, Justin Scott, Jo-Vaughn Scott, Danny Sewell, Arian Asllani
Copyright: Lyrics © WARP MUSIC LIMITED, BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Fashion Killa

Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a trendy nigga
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a jiggy nigga
I said

Rockin', rollin', swaggin' to the max
My bitch a fashion killa, she be busy poppin' tags
She got a lotta Prada, that Dolce & Gabbana
I can't forget Escada, and that Balenciaga
I'm sippin' purple syrup, come be my Aunt Jemima
And if you is a rider, we'll go shoppin' like mañana
Her attitude Rihanna, she get it from her mama
She jiggy like Madonna, but she trippy like Nirvana
'Cause everything designer
Her jeans is Helmut Lang, shoes is Alexander Wang
And her shirt the newest Donna, Karan
Wearin' all the Cartier frames
Jean Paul Gaultiers 'cause they match with her persona

Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a trendy nigga
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a jiggy nigga
I said

I see your Jil Sanders, Oliver Peoples
Costume National, your Ann Demeulemeester
See Visvim be the sneaker, Lanvin or Balmain
Goyard by the trunk, her Isabel Marant
I love your Linda Farrow, I adore your Dior
Your Damir Doma, Vena Cava from the store
I crush down with that top down, bossy how I ride 'round
Mami in that Tom Ford, papi in that Thom Browne
Rick Owens, Raf Simons, boy she got it by the stock
She ball until she fall, that means she shop until she drop
And Versace, got a lot, but she may never wear it
But she save it so our babies will be flyer than their parents and

Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a trendy nigga
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a jiggy nigga
I said her pistol go

Scoop back tees, breeze in the coupe
Smiling is your treasure, you're so well put together
I see bags and rings, jeans and shoes
Spikes and patent leathers if the fabrics match together
How 'bout you and me, me and you
Go away together, we could get away forever
All emotions clashing, thrashing, someone turned the light out
I met my baby, expressed my passion, on my fashion night out

Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a trendy nigga
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
Her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
I said her pistol go (bang bang, boom boom, pop pop)
'Cause she a fashion killa, and I'm a jiggy nigga
I said her pistol go
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Terius Nash, Christopher Stewart, Rakim Mayers, Hector Luis Delgado, Dylan Alexander Reznick, James Laurence
Copyright: Lyrics © The Administration MP, Inc., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Phoenix

Yeah, uh
Bloody ink on my pad spelled "suicide"
Michael Jackson even passed 'cause you scrutinized
F*ck Illuminati lies, say I'm lucified
Baptized in the gutter, motherf*cker you decide
'Cause the ride come with doors that be suicide?
Or the thighs on my whores, they be super-sized?
Good and bad having wars, nigga, choose a side
Now all hail to the Lord like you do to God
Who am I? Lord Flacko
Painting vivid pictures, call me Basquiat Picasso
Capo Head Huncho, now my following's colossal
Ain't no boxer, Pacquiao, but got the chopper todo caso
It's like you heard God spoke
I've seen the ghetto gospel
The choir like my reefer
And the preacher got my eyes low
Sister Mary Jane could make me see from singing high notes
The Bible or the rifle
Good night, folks

Bloody ink on my pen spelled "suicide"
Kurt Cobain even died 'cause you scrutinize
It's a fine line between truth and lies
Jesus Christ never lied, still was crucified
That's why I never judge another nigga
Life's a bitch, but that bitch in love with other niggas
Three to a bed, sheets, no covers, nigga
Dirty kitchen, no supper in the cupboards, nigga
Sucker niggas, what's up with niggas?
So my new attitude is like "F*ck them niggas!"
I grew up with niggas but don't f*ck with niggas
I don't trust them niggas, ain't got no love for niggas
Had the gold grills shining like them southern niggas
Kept it trilla, now the whole world f*ckin' with us
Meanwhile you treated all of us like other niggas
And now your world is in my palm, take cover, niggas

I shall ever fall, Lord, pick me up
Ever since a baby, two twos and sippy cups
Ever since them diapers and my zip-me-ups
Now, I'm walking on my own, y'all, wish me luck

Where do we lie?
Tell me where do we stand?
Where do we go?
It's all part of the plan

Where do we lie?
Tell me where do we stand?
Where do we go?
It's all part of the plan
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Brian Joseph Burton, Rakim Mayers
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Suddenly

I swear this famous shit just happened overnight
For sho' these hoes was so uptight but now they so polite
All I see is fake love, smiles, and overbites
But I'm pimpin' nigga, Dolemite
I remember when, I was like ten, maybe nine
Ricky had a deuce-deuce, two shotty pumps with a baby nine
Busta had the rhymes, Puffy had the shine
Bone Thugs had more thugs but that was the shit that made me rhyme
What's up, what's on your mind? Hol' up, I'm feeling fine
Locs got me blind, thuggin' like I'm Eazy-E up in his prime
Another young nigga with a attitude
I guess that's why them crackers kept me after school
Roaches on the wall, roaches on the dresser
Everybody had roaches but our roaches ain't respect us
On the park bench playing checkers, sippin' nectar
Girbaud jeans with hologram straps and reflectors
We had cookouts and dirt bikes and dice games and fist fights
And fish fries and shootouts like one SIG with two rounds
And one clip left two down, that's four kids but one lived
Left three dead, but one split, that one missed, that one snitched
That's everyday shit, shit, we used to that
Add it up, do the math with your stupid ass
Don't view me as no conscious cat, this ain't no conscious rap
F*ck the conscious crap, my MAC'll push your conscious back
I do this for my culture, penny, nickels in the sofa
Mommy watching Oprah, daddy in the kitchen whipping soda
Cook, connect, named Sosa, Spanish chick by Ola hit it in the chocha
With the Testarossa, hit Daytona, f*ck the law, we soldiers (uh)
I'm 'bout it 'bout it, nigga ain't shit sweet about me (uh)
The baddest bitches on the block be even speakin' 'bout me
I'm so thuggish ruggish bringin' ruckus, knuckin' if you buckin'
Young and thuggin', buggin' showing out in public, but you love it

Only got one vision, that's for kids in every color, religion
That listen, we gotta beat the system, stay the f*ck out the prisons
They try to blind our vision, but we all got children and siblings
You my brother, you my kin, f*ck the color of your skin

Back once again
Chillin' in the back of the 'Lac with a pass or the gin
Finna ask, then I pass to her friend
Then a nigga smash, I'll be damned if I ask her again
Gold slabs on the 'Lac when I spin
Then it's back to the back of the Benz
Lean back in the back with the Henn'
And a crap when I tap that that then attack
Never tax, never that that, max on the ends
Spend ends, I remember way back when
A motherf*cker used to have to borrow cash from my friends, friends
Just to put a snack up in the fridge
When I'm on, I swear to God to pay you back
Now the kids all look up to me, them bitches wanna f*ck with me
My idols say what's up to me, from ugly to comfortably, suddenly

It all changed man
It was just like yesterday
Times was so ugly
And now I'm comfortable
I just only can thank God
Suddenly
Everything changed before my eyes
By my surprise
A$AP
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Hector Delgado, Rakim Mayers, Tyshaun Holloway
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC






Back to: ASAP Rocky


Long. Live. ASAP (stylized as LONG.LIVE.A$AP) is the debut studio album by American rapper ASAP Rocky. It was released on January 15, 2013, by ASAP Worldwide, Polo Grounds Music, and RCA Records. The album features guest appearances from Kendrick Lamar, Schoolboy Q, 2 Chainz, Drake, Big K.R.I.T., Santigold, Overdoz, Yelawolf, Florence Welch, Danny Brown, Action Bronson, Joey Badass, Gunplay, and ASAP Ferg. The album's production was handled by Rocky himself (under the pseudonym Lord Flacko), Hector Delgado, Hit-Boy, Clams Casino, Jim Jonsin, T-Minus, Danger Mouse, 40, Skrillex, and Emile Haynie, among other high-profile producers.

The album was supported with four singles—"Goldie", "Fuckin' Problems", "Wild for the Night", and "Fashion Killa"—and Rocky's Long. Live. ASAP national tour with rappers Schoolboy Q and Danny Brown. It received generally positive reviews from critics, and charted at number one on the US Billboard 200.
Performed By: ASAP Rocky
Genre(s): Hip hop, cloud rap
Producer(s): 40, Amsterdam, Birdy Nam Nam, Clams Casino, Danger Mouse, Emile Haynie, Lord Flacko, Hector Delgado, Hit-Boy, Jim Jonsin, Joey Fatts, Rico Love, Skrillex, Soufien3000, T-Minus, V Don
Length: 49:15
Released: January 15th, 2013
Year: 2013

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