a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

a$ap ferg - let it go lyrics

[intro: a$ap yams]
trap lord season begins, now repent your sins
this yamborghini on the motherf-ckin’ check-in
you know i had to hang glide through for this one and all that
you know, we at the all-star game right now, eyes closed (swish)
shootin’ fadeaways from half-court (elbow in the rim and all that)
tomahawk jams (y’all still in the d-league doing, uhh, layup drills)
ya heard? ya feel me?

[chorus]
k!ll a motherf-cka with the magnum .44
find a chump slumped, n-gga, magnum on the road
body full of bullets when they found him on the road
lay a f-cker down, spray it at him then reload
this that fergenstein and i be down to let it go
semi or the tech, spray it at him then reload
this that fergenstein and i be down to let it go
semi or the tech, spray it at him then reload (fergie!)

[verse 1]
ride maybachs like ross (huh) 550 benz, four doors
praying for my n-ggas, they lost, dying no thing, they wolves
riding on a gang that floss, multiplyin’ by the gang that bucks
pull a 9 on anything we spark, ménage ain’t a thing, they wh0r-s
p-ssy 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
spit at your back and you lie on the floor, rat-a-tat-tat and you gon’ see the lord
b-tch like horse, x in her pores, want more s-x, all in her jaws
molly!

[verse 2]
i’m grippin’ the mac and you under attack
spit at your back and you taking a nap
no heart a be pumping, your body relaxed
you talk to me dumb and that’s how i react
one arm in the air like i’m waving a cab
the 9 is a b-tch and she making it clap
i’m palming a 5th like i’m giving a dap
be ready to scr-p when you talk to the trap (my condolences)
you are now talking to a boss, lou bang still ride in the porsche
two thou’ for the grill they cost, white gold t–th, no floss
young trap lord like doss, two b-tches in the crib, no drawers
she rocking the mic with her jaws, i call that b-tch nicki minaj
she pop one pill no cough, when sh-t get real she spark
givenchy my b-tches bought, smoke that life ’til you n-ggas see god
getting head in the foreign cars, get the head from the foreign broads
hasta la vista, señor, p-ssy -ss n-ggas a see allah (fergie!)

[outro: a$ap yams]
so it’s like, “f-ckin’ problems,” platinum (bling, bling)
longlivea$ap number one album in the country (bling blaow)
sold out tours, what’s next? trap lord
let these motherf-ckers have it, let ’em know we not playing this year
the limb’s never been so relaxed, ever, heheh
it’s lonely at the top; all this shrimp, n0body to share it with
we ain’t trippin’ though, heheheheh
y’all walkin’ ’round with wrinkled silks, looking crazy, nah mean?
pay your dry-cleaning bill and all that (pay that, pay that)
cause it’s like, it ain’t even a compet-tion no more, hahahahahah

- aap ferg lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS