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Nigo - I Know NIGO Album Lyrics



Nigo - I Know NIGO Lyrics






Lost and Found Freestyle 2019

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay
Okay, 'kay, 'kay, 'kay
'Kay, 'kay, 'kay, 'kay
'Kay, 'kay, 'kay, okay
A$AP Rocky, nigga

Pretty Flacko, nigga
A$AP shit, nigga

I just want my credit like I'm Soulja
Camo like Rambo, big Draco 'cross the shoulder
I'm fine-tuned on iTunes if you shuffle
Test the boy with suits like I came to tune your motor
Motherf*ck a mumble rapper, I'd rather be a mogul
Million dollar market deals closin' on my mobile
Keep the grass cut, got a phobia for cobra
You should low key, f*ck the world when I'm vulgar
Man, I used to listen to that nigga when I was younger
Found out he's a poser when I got a 'lil older
My bitch used to model for the Vogue, but she older

A truce and a foe, sittin' 'round watchin' poker
No buns in the oven, or babies in the stroller
Just guns in the cupboard, and some ladies comin' over
See I'm a pretty boy, manicures with the rollers
And babushkas on the head, like grandmothers and the Roman
Some women throw me bras, some women throw me roses
Might even flash a titty while she on a nigga shoulders
They goin' crazy at my shows, she passed out if I noticed her
Yeah, we in the buildin' 'til the shit is forced for closure
Yeah, we not the same, I ain't tryna play it like a lame nigga
Switch a gang, switch the beat, like the track that's playin' (that's playin')

Ayo (woo, woo)
Called you a Uber, and that's the only way I'm giving you payback (yeah)
My shit nasty like that one nigga from A$AP
Been ill since I was twelve, was Rocky but ended swell
Now, say Tyler, watch these motherf*ckers start ringing bells (ding-dong)
'Cause I spit fire, and shit cold
This shit so mean, nice rocks and I get stones
This shit so clean and bright, bold (yeah)
The gold got a grip hold
All these Lucky Charms like a thick bowl
The diamonds all appraised (nigga), yeah
Y'all go to Avianne and y'all get a lease in that bitch

My earlobes got them yellow boogers like I sneezed in that bitch (achoo)
The 808s is dry, you need to put some grease in that bitch
And let it sit, nigga
F*ck what you heard, and f*ck rap, I make a living off that 4-letter word (GOLF)
One-stop shop, nigga, just to sell them shoes
The profit margins lookin' higher than them airplane views
Y'all getting f*cked in your deals, and they share that lube
I push the cum-colored Beamer and the inside blue (skrrt)
I push an Elon too, and the 675
The long tail, like the mane that's on A$AP Lou
Whips, whips, whips, whips, Kunta started a fight
The 720 ordered and I still go ride me a bike

But don't follow in yours (naw), Vill behind me in sight (yeah)
My niggas strictly like 9s, like young Mike and his type (pew-pew)
Rip, you better zip that lip and zip up quick
And shit, he'd probably suck my dick and kiss his bitch (mwah)
It's two sides to each coin, I call heads (heads)
Been countin' so much goddamn coin, my palm red (uh)
I spend it on some books and some diamonds that shed light
And them hoes shine just like the top of a bald head, nigga

Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bernard James Freeman, Chad Hugo, Clarence Reid, Cleavon Darnell Prince, Clifford Joseph Harris, Clinton Darryl Mansell, Donnell Price, Jonathan H. Smith, Leroy Williams, Micah Le Var Troy, Pharrell L. Williams, Rakim Mayers, Sammie D. Norris, Stayve Thomas, Tyler Gregory Okonma, Willie James Clarke
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Arya

Yeah, yeah
Uh, yeah, uh

Human Made on me like P (yes sir)
Waves don't need no grease (no sir)
Chains don't need no grease
No oil stains on me, no screech (screech)
Big old AK in my briefs
That bitch stay on me like jeans
Brand new Js ain't got no crease
My day-to-day fits be too clean (uh)

Beautiful whips, check out the handle, swish (woo)
Shooters gon' swoosh, hitters don't miss (woo)
Arya, just add a ton of y'all names to my list, bitch
Death wish, not to be messed with', tested, quiz (quiz)
They shootin' shots, hittin' bricks, niggas be testin' the kid

So many Raf in my crib
When I die, gotta leave that for my kids
Tatted my rib, A$AP on my ribs
Tellin' my jit that they daddy's a pimp
If I die, tell them they dad was legit
All of these hoes from my past, would be lucky to smash them again
I bag all they friends, eighteen and plus
Twenty-one up, I'm Savage again (uh)
Put a stack on your wig like fashion
Look how he matchin' again, now that is a trend
I'm blastin', aim at your cabbage
Splat on your trench, the color of radish, yeah (uh)

Beautiful whips, check out the handle, swish (woo)
Shooters gon' swoosh, hitters don't miss (woo)
Arya, just added one of y'all names to my list, bitch (bitch)
Death wish (woo), not to be messed with', tested, quiz (quiz)
They shootin' them shots, they still hittin' bricks, niggas be testin' the kid

Yeah, yeah, they need jobs like Steve
I'm already on the iPhone 23
Was sixteen with an M16, that bitch weigh on me like feet (nigga)
Green ain't have no seeds (no green), lean ain't need no sweets (no lean)
Bling all in my teeth, floss every day like it's my teeth (flossy)
Bae ain't need no fees (money), please don't make no scene (money)
Sleep over, don't lose sleep, bitch, like "please don't use your teeth"
Uh, chains don't need no grease, bikes ain't need no seats, uh
Tank on me like P (uh), that chrome thing on me lowkey (uh)
Bitch

Beautiful whips, check out the handle, swish (woo)
Shooters gon' swoosh, hitters don't miss (woo)
Arya just added one of y'all names to my list, bitch (woo, woo)
Death wish (woo), not to be messed with', tested, quiz (quiz)
They shootin' them shots, they still hittin' bricks, niggas be testin' the kid (uh)

Yeah, shout out to my nigga Hec', shout out to my nigga Nigo (yeah)
Y'know how we give it up, A$AP all day, nigga
(Uh)
(Uh)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Carter Lang, Hector Ruben Delgado, Rakim Mayers, Westen Weiss
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Punch Bowl

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Punch bowl full of car keys for all my friends
You get to pick your own Benz
Punch bowl full of car keys for all my friends
You get to pick your own Benz
The new bug-eye in front of my mama house
The new time off private Bahama routes
My new attorney get Jeffrey Dahmer out
And all that shit I told Obama about, ask him

Shed nightmares of feds rushin' in
Shared my world, they couldn't touch us in
I got it and lost it and got rich again
While y'all signed papers and handed pictures in
Taught you to fish to become fisherman
I ain't washed this money for you to risk again
We had Cipriani's, we ain't cheapin' in
Niggas fightin' to pay when you got richer friends
My manager started off as my publicist
He buy GT2s and bunch of other shit
My 4 AM friends that I trusted in
And twenty years later, they still crushin' it
So every vacation is still us again
Is baby seats back at the Cullinans?
The new Bubba Watson without the Mulligan
And I put all that shit under my government

Punch bowl full of car keys for all my friends
You get to pick your own Benz
Punch bowl full of car keys for all my friends
You get to pick your own Benz
The new bug-eye in front of my mama house
The new time off private Bahama routes
My new attorney get Jeffrey Dahmer out
And all that shit I told Obama about, ask him

My entire life's been blessed beyond measure
If this marks the end of an era, it's been a pleasure
The wings still weighs under Carreras
The dream's still king like it's Correta
The dream still big like Ms. Valleta
My ching go bling, meet me in Dulles
Covered in tats like it was colors
The last Narco without the mullet (Yeah)
You can't compare us to such and such's
Rappin' and couples don't do it justice
Arm and Hammer, you can't touch us
We crossed our fingers before we flushed it
When it ain't come back, I was disgusted
Flip my wig like I was Dudus
Die for my chain, rather than tuck it
My crown is leanin', I must adjust it

Punch bowl full of car keys for all my friends
You get to pick your own Benz
Punch bowl full of car keys for all my friends
You get to pick your own Benz
The new bug-eye in front of my mama house
The new time off private Bahama routes
My new attorney get Jeffrey Dahmer out
And all that shit I told Obama about, ask him

Yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Gene Thorton, Terrence Thorton, Pharrell Williams
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Functional Addict

The one that she f*ck with, she love how I touch it
She how love how it feel, I'm up in her stomach (back it up)
Ain't on no budget, so no jewel would touch it (aye)

Don't bust down no watches (aye)
Only these bitches you cuff, so let's talk about wrist (touch it)
Not talkin' 'bout that lil' toy in your bitch (back it up)
That is a railroad, but this is a rich (aye)
Two-point-five somethin' there, how does fit?
I got new yellow cake just to run all my errands
Got the vaccine 'cause you niggas is variants (back it up)
Just got the Viking to fish with my parents (aye)
Gold on my teeth 'cause it matches my larynx (aye)
I just told Tiffany's make my epiphany
Clear yellow carbon, I F with it vividly (f*ck it up)
Left number two, but the roof back in Italy (aye)
Shoutout to my hunnies, I heard y'all was missin' me

Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (what?)
Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (back it up)
Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (aye)
Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (aye)

Stick that ass out with pocket lips (yup)
And drip the sauce like you ain't touchin' chips (f*ck it up)
A half a million to f*ck up with (aye)
If not, you better off duckin' him (aye)

Functional addict
She everyday with it (back it up)
She don't play with it (aye)
She gotta have it (f*ck it up)
So she stay with it (aye)
She don't play with it (aye)
Functional addict (no, no, no, no)
She okay with it (back it up)
She don't play with it (aye)
She gotta have it (aye) (woah, woah, woah, woah)

So she stay with it (f*ck it up)
She don't play with it (aye, (aye)

You gon' ask me now or you too proud to beg?
She wan' go Hermes 'fore we get in that bed (back it up)
I respect the stunters, I might let you spend (aye)
My boo like my crew, when she crew, she say, "Slatt"
Flew 'cross the map, on them cheeks, that's a fact (touch it)
Maybe it's six hunnid, recline in the back (back it up)
Off the show, I'm found comfortable with a stretch (aye)
F*ck a house, got the strap on my back (aye)
I can go for nothin', tatted it cap
F*ck the rules, 'cause life'll never be fair (back it up)
You patronize it, don't even give me no dap (aye)

You patronize it, niggas stay on it, stay on it (aye)
Diamonds hittin', look like Crayola, they holdin'
I'm a wolf and you a coyote (f*ck it up)
You niggas actin' rich and rowdy (aye)
Pull up, two-door coupe, it's not an Audi (aye)

I popped a Addy (drop)
She call me daddy (back it up)
Tiffany co. but it's petty (aye)
Functional addict (aye)
Sideways, you go use your credit (f*ck it up)
Most of you niggas pathetic (aye)
These drugs done turned me into an addict (aye)
Functional addict (drop)

She got dead with it (aye)
She don't play with it (aye)
She gotta have it (f*ck it up)
So she stay with it (aye)
She don't play with it (aye)

Ayy, bust it (drop)
Bust it, bust it (back it up)
Bust it, bust it (aye)
Bust it, bust it (aye)
Bust it, bust it (yeah)
Bust it, bust it (f*ck it up)
Bust it, bust it(aye)
Bust it, bust it (what?)

Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (what?)
Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (back it up)
Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (aye)
Bust it, babe, bust it, bust it back (aye)

Stick that ass out with pocket lips (yup)
And drip the sauce like you ain't touchin' chips (f*ck it up)
A half a million to f*ck up with (aye)
If not, you better off duckin' him (what?)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Pharrell L. Williams, Sergio Giavanni Kitchens
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Want It Bad

I want it bad, yeah (yeah, yeah)
No turnin' back, yeah (yeah, yeah)
I want it bad, yeah (yeah, yeah)
No turnin' back, yeah (yeah, yeah, yeah)

I want it bad (yeah, yeah)
I'm finally on the up and up
Cannot stop, can't have enough
I want it bad (yeah, yeah, yeah)
This for you, come and get you some
See, my work is never done, see?

Uh-huh, come on in, let's go (come on let's go, oh)
Life's fast (yes) with high hopes
Story of a kid who was feelin' low (yeah)
Turn the life of me, then we set the scene
On my grind, I work hard
Lord hit me, whoa, tell 'em it's a new mold
Welcome to a different zone, doin' the impossible
Too incredible (get it, get it, get it, get it, whoa whoa)
All night, we gon' live it up and do what we like
Been so long, can't deny, oh, this life, we will survive
We free, see what happened to me
Oowee-oowee, this world will see
Oh, my heart is full, babe, know I (yeah)

I want it bad (yeah, yeah)
I'm finally on the up and up
Cannot stop, can't have enough
I want it bad (yeah, yeah)
This for you, come and get you some (mm)
See my work is never done (mm)

I wanna sleep good tonight (uh)
I wanna temple, that's right (get it)
Can I get it, man?
Ooh, do you feel it, babe? (Can you hear me, though? Get it)
I want it bad (yeah)
This is my dream fantasy (huh?)
Step in my world, you won't believe (huh?)

Hands say right (get it) and we keep it going
Runnin' through the nighttime (yeah) let's hear it for 'em (woo)
Gotta flex ties, scorin', winnin' points on 'em (yeah)
For the team, and we drew 'em when the champs' on
In the life, see the diamonds and the rings
I'm like Kobe from the 9, got the mamba on the brain, man
Nah, nah, nah, but the beat, oh, we know
Yeah, we came to fly, we ain't came to lose, nah bro (hmm)
Angels sing to me when the stars are bright with a gentle breeze
From the start been wantin' more
And all in all, I'm in a dream
Things won't be the same, nah
This my world of imagining
Been thinking about it, thinking about it
Been dreaming about

Hey, hey
Duh-duh, duh-duh, duh
The good life, the good life
The good life, the good life
The good life, the good life
The good life
The good life, the good life

I wanna sleep good tonight (yeah)
I want a tempo that's right (yeah)
Can I get it, man?
Ooh, do you feel it, babe? (Can you hear me, though? Get it)
I want it bad (yeah)
This is my dream fantasy (huh?)
Step in my world, you won't believe (huh?)

Huh, huh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Pharrell Williams, Scott Mescudi
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Mor Tonight

Oh baby? あんたなの?
超いいね! あんたなの?
可愛いね! あんたなの?
大きいね? あんたなの?

Oh baby? あんたなの?
超いいね! あんたなの?
可愛いね! あんたなの?
大きいね? 本当かよ?

ざまみろ オレ達どうよ
いつ何処でもlocal
最低最悪な状況
でも楽しいphoto
Might see me in a UFO
それとも万里の長城
8-bar metaverse 妄想
Stay E.T., no phone home


頼むわ どれを見てもハマるわ
フィルター越しの遊び場
やめられない I don't know why

弄られるよりも
自ら弄るdecoration
このご時世のsurvival
あなたは全然
[Chorus]
Morë Tonight
Now we're stuck with an ordinary life
つまらない
Trying to live that life
They're gonna cut you off just like a knife
Amore morë morë ハンパない

上下にswipeでいいね
覗く他人の人生
衝撃のlife I'm dreaming
Can't get enough still want more
見つめるその目は真剣
夢見るその手はfreeで
掴み取るlife you're dreaming
If you're ready just come follow


頼むわ どれを見てもハマるわ
フィルター越しの遊び場
やめられない I don't know why

盛り過ぎくらいでなんぼ
やるなら商売繁盛
必要不可欠パッション
まだまだ全然
[Chorus]
Morë Tonight
Now we're stuck with an ordinary life
つまらない
Trying to live that life
They're gonna cut you off just like a knife
Amore morë morë ハンパない

ハバネロより激辛よ
盛りすぎたらもう火傷
でもハマればハマるほど
後戻りは出来ないよ
ガン黒ギャルならもちろん
芸者も白くてなんぼ
渋谷でデコトラ爆音
そろそろ決めろよ覚悟


Tokyoは盛るし盛れて盛れれば
盛りついた遊び場
お盛んなTeriyaki's back

ざまみろオレ達どうよ
日に日に盛りすぎモード
Omakaseしますよ想像
奴らは全然
[Chorus]
Morë Tonight
Now we're stuck with an ordinary life
つまらない
Trying to live that life
They're gonna cut you off just like a knife
Amore morë morë ハンパない
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Paper Plates

Yeah

You know that feeling from the paper plates?
Hitters squintin' like they just been maced
Rub it in their face until it's chafe (woo, yeah)
Richard Millie, ain't no time to wait (woo, yeah)
Storm Kawasaki in the night (yeah, right)
Flame throwin' zombies out the way (woo, yeah)

In the cut like a racer (damn)
Hundred thou' for the Jacob (damn)
Clear face, no makeup (damn)
On the finger, a glacier (yeah)
Hood Pope got his cake up (ah, damn)
Got a scope with a laser (right?)
Up in Harlem buyin' acres
My closet in danger (that's right)
Hit her when I had the custom new teeth (girl)
All these cuts like I'm friends with Bruce Lee
Hundred hoes like I'm a loose leaf (woo)
Jungle music like I'm Fela Kuti (hoo, hoo, hoo hoo)
Tunnel vision, nigga, f*ck the groupies
You's a fan, how you try to sue me? (yeah)
Mama first class like she boujee (ah, yeah)
Livin' bigger than BIG in Juicy (hoo!)

You know that feeling from the paper plates? (woo)
Hitter squintin' like they just been maced (right, yeah)
Rub it in their face until it's chafe (woo, yeah)
Richard Millie, ain't no time to wait (woo, yeah)
Storm Kawasaki in the night (yeah, right)
Flame throwin' zombies out the way (woo, yeah)

Julius Caesar with a Caesar (yeah)
Floatin' on 'em like Jesus (right)
Pass the keys to the Beamer (woo)
Piss Cris, for leisure (that's right)
Not if I'm one to lead her (damn)
Flip phone got the heaters (woo, damn)
Another deal with Adidas
You can miss with the features (yeah)
I'm Puff with the grey patch sippin' Cris (girl)
Only nigga make my niggas rich
Life is sweeter than licorice
Uncle used to be mixin' grits (hoo, hoo, hoo hoo)
Tiffany's put the wrist in drip (yeah)
Got 'em sicker than syphilis (yeah)
Chariot for my emperors (damn)
P in Harlem and they kickin' flips (right)

You know that feeling from the paper plates? (woo)
Hitter squintin' like they just been maced (right, yeah)
Rub it in their face until it's chafe (woo, yeah)
Richard Millie, ain't no time to wait (woo, yeah)
Storm Kawasaki in the night (yeah, right)
Flame throwin' zombies out the way (woo, yeah)

Yeah, yeah, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Pharrell Williams, Darold Durard Brown Ferguson Jr.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Hear Me Clearly

Hear me clearly, if y'all niggas fear me, just say y'all fear me

These drug dealer rollies is my TikTok and Triller
Insecure bitches get lip fillers
Covered in white like bridezilla
And never been caught
So what's the Shiggy dance for a brick nigga?
Extracurricular
Art buyer, eight twelve 'Rari driver
Spent six just to make the roof Harry Potter
Kilogram kick starter push a brick harder
Left my elbow in the pot à la Vince Carter
Compared to two martyrs but I'm chasing moguls
Bosses meet for hamachi in the back of Nobu
No phones allowed, no phones allowed
Cell towers go ping from the nearest cloud
My JanSporters, my transporters and Jan's daughter
Who put up extra bed sheets to block the camcorders
You place orders, I hedge bets
Promises are when you follow through with your threats, nigga

Hear me clearly, if y'all niggas fear me, just say y'all fear me
F*ck all these fairytales
Hear me clearly, if y'all niggas fear me, just say y'all fear me
F*ck all these fairytales

Buy your bitch a Richard Mille
If she like Meeks, let no nigga claim rich and let 'em buy you sneaks
Wish upon a star, that's beyond your reach
Or you can lay with him in misery and grind your teeth
Let a brick nigga help you find your peace
G Wagon your seats, G's cover your pleats
Ten toes down, Loewe cover the cleats
Dope sell itself, got a trunk full of receipts
Is you lookin' for me or are we lookin' for Meech?
Stand on my standards, expanded with the Ziplock
Even if a nigga number better, never clique hop
Never tell a jeweler what you spent for your wristwatch
And we don't f*ck bitches who f*ck niggas on TikTok
See the difference 'tween me and them?
I move to a different drum like EDM
This coke speak to my soul like a medium
F*cking comedians

Hear me clearly, if y'all niggas fear me, just say y'all fear me
F*ck all these fairytales

Hear me clearly, if y'all niggas fear me, just say y'all fear me
F*ck all these fairytales
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Jahmal Gwin, John Stephens, Johnny Mollings, Lawrence Berment, Leigh Elliott, Leonard Mollings, Luca Starz, Rennard East, Shawn Carter, Terrence Thornton, William Roberts, Ye
Copyright: Lyrics © Freibank Musikverlags und vermarktungs GmbH, BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Remember

Grr, buh
Look
Oh, yeah

Why the f*ck are you hatin' lil nigga?
Lil nigga, I know why you hatin' lil nigga
'Cause I got that money, now you want that money
I get the clout, now you chasin' the fact
I put VS's in all of my chains
Know how to trap, nigga, three different ways
I ain't comin' outside, boy, unless I get paid
Yeah, we droppin' the fives and we droppin' them Gs
Mr. Big EBK, boy, I'll f*ck everything
If you droppin' my knot, uppin' my knot
Opp up in Heaven, send shots to the sky
Ride for my niggas, yeah, only my guys
For my lil' niggas, we pourin' out liquor
I'm tryna see seven figures
I'm tryna see seven figures

Mama, no vacation but I'm on a island
Since a young nigga, we wildin'
Call up the Batman, I'm robbin'
Niggas ain't on my timin'
And my money keep pilin' and pilin'
Lil' nigga, you chuckin' and jivin'
I'm like, "Mmm hmm, whatever"
I'm still gon' send shots like the motherf*ckin' reverend
Knock on the door, nigga, let me in
Yeah, we still sendin' shots up on President
All my niggas is felon and evident
Shack through the sea with no evidence
DayDay, have you screamin' through mega like, "Mayday"
Who the f*ck are you talkin' to crazy?
If you don't want no beef, nigga, pay me
Nigga, talk to me nice, nigga lay-lay
Why the f*ck are you hatin', lil' nigga, lil' nigga, on me?

'Cause that money gon' stay up on me
Know some niggas that chase up on me
That's why I keep Trey up on me
Now your bitch wanna lay up on me
And she wanna lick, lick up on me
I remember when I was in deep
Uh, flexin', if you gettin' bread, why you stressin'?
I bought a chain and a tuck in
I did fifteen on my check-ins
Big Louis Vuitton, what I'm steppin'
Big .38 for the weapon
And my pockets on swole yeah, I keep a bankroll
Walk with pole yeah, I'm always on go
'Member them days I was all in the slum
'Member them days I was playin' with
'Member them days I was playin' with
We both had a , nigga, why did you front?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Angel Isaac Orozco, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Jose Luise Reynoso-Contreras, Kiesa Rae Ellestad, Rami Afuni, Nagao Tomoaki
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Heavy

(AXL)
Ready
Been there, ready
Lil' Uzi, baow
Lil' Uzi, been there (ayy, Brandon, man, why you do that?)
Baow, baow
Been there
Been there, been there, been there
Been there, baow, been there
Been there, skrrt (yeah)

I don't think they ready (yeah)
And I know she know me, I push foreigns like they Chevy's (what?)
She f*ck with my opps, she do that shit to be petty (to be petty)
I still get the top in the club, bitch, I'm too deady (yeah)
This Moncler I got on heavy (woo)
Heavy, heavy, heavy (woo)
Cullinan, that Rolls-Royce truck (skrrt)
Heavy, heavy, heavy

Ain't nobody fly as us (fly as us, yeah)
Heavy, heavy (fly as us) heavy (fly as us)
And you know I got it tucked
Heavy (grrah, baow)
Heavy (Glocky)
Heavy (baow, yeah)
Look in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
Nah, I'm on a jet
Why would I ever respond to a lame? (why?)
Yeah, he ain't put a check
Pussy ass nigga better stay in his lane (lane)
Yeah, before he get whacked (yeah)
I f*ck around with all my chains, and I still got space all around my neck
Four cut emeralds, can't do baguettes, I done put on my vest (yeah)
Can't trust him, put a .30 in my TEC
I done made thirty more M's with this
More money, more problems, that's on my desk
I'm a young nigga, sometimes I stress
Get a nigga dropped then I stress less
They ain't on my head, man, they on my dick (yeah)

I don't think they ready (yeah)
And I know she know me, I push foreigns like they Chevy's (word)
She f*ck with my opps, she do that shit to be petty
I still get the top in the club, bitch, I'm too deady
This Moncler I got on heavy (woo)
Heavy (yeah), heavy, heavy (woo)
Cullinan, that Rolls-Royce truck
Heavy, heavy, heavy

I got one eye open steady (steady)
Countin' up the fetty (yeah)
Whippin' up that Crocker and we servin' out that Betty (yeah)
Man, this thirty way too heavy (whoa)
Glocky hold it steady (steady)
Pull up in twin Lambo's I'm with Bubba like they Chevy's
I don't think that bitch was ready (what?)
Spent five hunnid thousand at Starlets, my heart got heavy (yeah)
Then I thought about it, that money was just so petty (oh)
I ain't want no pussy baby, just give me the headie (yeah)
I done found my opp location just right off the ready
I can pay for the whole hit, that's only if you let me
Voodoo lady prayed over me just so she could bless me
I know it's a couple niggas out here wanna test me
Put a check on him I'm in Miami on the jetskis
I don't think she ready (ready)
She f*ck with my opps (opp)
Do that to be petty (petty)
Pull up in that drop (drop)
Just like it's a Chevy (Chevy)
I still get the top in the club, bitch, I'm too deady

This Moncler I got on heavy (got on, heavy)
Heavy, heavy, heavy
Cullinan, that Rolls-Royce truck (heavy)
(Cullinan, that Rolls-Royce truck) heavy
(Cullinan, that Rolls-Royce truck) heavy
(Cullinan, that Rolls-Royce truck) heavy

Yeah
Huh, what?
Lil' Uzi
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Aziz Manalla Yusuf Abdul-Aziz, Brandon Terrell Veal, Kevin Gomringer, Symere Woods, Tim Gomringer
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Come On Lets Go

Yeah
Brrr (ooh), brrr (ooh ah)
(Ooh, yeah), I'm downstairs
Tsk (ooh), f*ck you mean? (Ooh ah)
Girl (ooh)

I told your ass be ready, ahh
You always got excuses and you know I be on top of things
Punctual my proper name, on the dot is not your aim
Although we in love, we are not the same (uh)
I hit you on that celly, ahh
You said you needed five, that was more than twelve ago
Claim you got your hands tied, tied, I'm stuck like Velcro
Georgia peach on east side like it's ATL, ho (yeah)
You lackin' (ayy), you trippin', you slackin' (ayy)
Impatiently waitin' (yeah, ayy)
Confused, like, "what happened?"
How you get a attitude 'cause I'm gettin' mad?
'Cause you wanna take twenty minutes and a half
And on top of that, I gotta get gas
Ah, the freeway, picked up traffic
What the f*ck is you doin'? We gotta dip, dip, dip, dip, dip
Cartier, er, er, er, watch go tick, tick, tick, tick
Waitin' for that last minute for your goddamn hair
Now stop playin' games, go on bring your ass downstairs

Come on, girl, let's go (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Come on, girl, let's go (yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming)
Girl, you know the time you wastin', that time you wastin'
That time that you wastin's on my dime
Come on, girl, let's go (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Come on, girl, let's go (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Girl you know the time that you wastin', that time you wastin'
That time that you wastin's on my dime

Took me twenty to get ready, ahh
Shower, moisturizin', the fit I had on yesterday
Uniform necessities, multiples are er'thing
Now your neighbor wanna come and speak to me, like
"Hey! How you doin'?" "I'm good" "I ain't too bad"
"Ah ha, ha ha ha," hit her with a few fake laughs
She talkin' my ear off, in sympathy, I laugh
I care about one thing, where the f*ck you at? (ayy)
Anyway, gotta pay a little more, she late to the jet (ayy)
Gotta jet 'cause your boy leave at 8 (ayy)
And we supper up on the upper like in the orchestra
Go play that shit I score (woo), for LV Abloh projects (yeah)
You ain't scared to change 'cause this ain't comin' out your pockets
My Freudian slip, I'm rude, lil' bit, don't be actin' so appalled
All y'all girls love this shit
Put so much into tonight and you just don't care
Now stop playin' games, go on bring your ass downstairs

Come on, girl, let's go, come on, girl, let's go (go, go)
Come on, girl, let's go, come on girl, let's go (I'm comin', I'm comin', I'm comin')
Girl you know the time that you wastin', that time you wastin'
That time that you wastin's on my dime

Tsk, you're always rushing me, relax
Chill, chill, alright?
T-tonight just don't care, playin' games, girl, bring your ass downstairs
Why you trippin'? (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'm comin' (yeah, yeah)
I'm finishin' my makeup, can you just relax, like
This takes a long time, like it's not that serious (where the f*ck you at?)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I think, I, I think I left something in the house
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Pharrell Williams, Tyler Okonma
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




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