A$AP Twelvyy, A$AP Rocky, A$AP Ferg and A$AP Ant - Yams Day
Stick 'em up, just stick 'em upSucker nigga, give it up
.38 to your dome
Drop it off, give me some
Step to a real nigga
Pistol grips all we know
I'm doggin' you bitches and you niggas
Yo, yo, yo, yo
I need a hundred a show when I'm back on the road
We gon' run it and grind it, it's really no biggie
The blickie and Rickie, this fit me
I'm really the bitty
I bust up a bag and I multiply fifty
I wanted a Jag' but I rather the Bentley
Yeah, I know 'bout the tax, I'ma tax for the kidney
I'm coming right back, I'll be back in a jiffy
Kick in the dirt and I'm out of the mud
Land this suburban, I'm swerving the fuck
Back on the back and I'm stacking it up
My pack in the back, got a strap in the tuck (strap in the tuck)
Propane, go fangs, lo mein, cocaine, dope fiends
Gold chains, soul trains, road rage, oh, wait, woah, wait
Fresh up out the grave
Bet that's I that you see
Bludgeon out your brain, it's your eyes that deceive you
I don't see no evil
I know evil from my ears that I hear from my parents upstairs
Say the prayers to the man upstairs, yeah (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this everyday (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, I got roofied then I lay (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this everyday (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, she a cutie with the braids (yeah)
Flaric era
Give her chara
Baby Jesus, Holy major in the cup of chara
I hooked the cable, it was illegal
When we young, we had a couple channels (hey)
Rusty pliers just to turn the channels
Antennas and a couple scanners (hey)
Bandanas with the hammers (ooh-ooh, yeah)
G-4 boys and a couple scammers
Bam pop a drop a cannon like a spanner
A toolbox with a couple hammers
Hold hammers like I hold bananas
Cozy boy like I'm hoe and nana
Hold your phone up when I'm going ham
They on my hand, or they holding planners
Wrap your body in a clothing hanger, like a old banana, yeah
Fresh up out the grave
Bet that's I that you see
Bludgeon out your brain, it's your eyes that deceive you
I don't see no evil, I know evil from my ears that I hear from my parents upstairs
Say the prayers to the man upstairs, yeah
Magic City I touchdown
So many ones, gotta order some raks (what?)
Copping the Ps from the plug, after we do business we do a handshake, uh
Rolly in the sky like I"m Mase
Paris, I'm balling, I'm eating on crepes (ballin')
I had to go straight to the bank
So much money I ran out of space (ran out of space)
Versace my baller, my fork
Jewish lawyer when I'm going to court (what?)
Vacation, sipping that lean on resort (uh)
She want a baby (uh)
Dealership, I copped the Audi off the floor (vroom)
Halo, now that boy trip with the Lord (boom)
Lambo', I had to lift up my door
Lambo', I had to lift up my door
It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this everyday (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, I got roofied then I lay (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this everyday (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, she a cutie with the braids (yeah)
Stick 'em up, just stick 'em up
Suck a nigga, give it up (yeah)
.38 to your dome
Drop it off, give me some (yeah)
Step to a real nigga
Pistol grips all we know (yeah)
I'm doggin' you bitches
And you niggas (yeah)
Written by:
Jamal Phillips
Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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