A$AP Ferg
A$AP Ferg - Let It Go lyrics
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[Intro: A$Ap Yams] Trap Lord season begins, now repent your sins This Yamborghini on the motherfuckin' check-in You know I had to hang-glide through for this one You know, we at the all-star game right now Eyes closed (swish) shootin' fade aways from half-court (Elbow in the rim and all that) (Y'all still in the D-League doing, uhh, layup drills) Ya feel me? [Hook:] Kill a motherfucka with the magnum forty-four 'Bout a jump snump, nigga, magnum on the road Body full of bullets when he found him on the road Lay a fucker down, spray it at him then reload This that Fergenstein and I be down to let it go The semi or the tech, spray it at him then reload This that Fergenstein and I be down to let it go The semi or the tech, spray it at him then reload [Verse:] Ride Maybachs like Ross (Ugh) 550 Benz four doors Praying for my niggas, they lost Dyin' on things, they wolves Ridin' on a gang that floss Multiplyin by the gang that bucks Pull a 9 on anything we spark Menage anything they horse Pussy so good, need more Let me get in those drawers 5-0 in the corner store He heard all them claps with a round of applause Putting your back and your lung on the floor Rat-a-tat-tat and you go see the lord Bitch like horse, action or pause Want more s**, all in her jaws Molly! [Hook:] [Verse 2:] I'm givin' the mac and you under attack Spit at your back and you takin' a nap No heart a be pumpin', your body relaxed You talk to me dumb and that's how I react One arm in the air like I'm waving a cap The nine is a bitch and she makin' it clap I'm palmin' a fifth like I'm givin' a dap Be ready to scrap when you talk to the Trap (My condolences) You are now talking to a boss Lou Bang still ride in the Porsche 2-thou for the grill, they cost White gold teeth, no floss Young trap lord like Doss Two bitches in the crib, no drawers She rockin' the mic with her jaws I call that bitch Nicki Minaj She pop more pills no cough When shit get real she stop Givenchy my bitches Smoke that life till you niggas see God Gettin' head in the foreign cars Get the head from the foreign broads Asta la vista, senor Pussy ass niggas a see Allah [Hook:] [Outro: A$Ap Yams] So it's like, "Fuckin' Problems," platinum (Bling, bling) Longlivea$ap number one album in the country (Bling blow) sold out tours, what's next? Trap Lord Let these motherfuckers have it Let them know we ain't playing this year The limb's never been so relaxed, ever It's lonely at the top; all this shrimp, no one to share it with We ain't trippin' though Y'all walkin' 'round with wrinkled silks, looking crazy Pay your dry-cleaning bill and all that (pay that, pay that) Cause it's like it ain't even a competition anymore