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a$ap mob - a$ap mob - freestyle on flex part 2 lyrics

[verse 1: a$ap nast]
i’m only one of the hottest that spated
cuz’ i walked the lonely mile with satan
smokin a bag of what the f-ck you sayin
nasty baby b-tch, don’t get me confused, i never could lose and never will
aside from any guy, i slay with swords my dead lords are so so many guys
i make you cry, angry bullets from my f-cking semi fly
you disrespect the set i’m mobbin’ with, who you mobbin’ with?
you crying b-tch, i’m bout my motherf-ckin’ job and sh-t
always striving prosper come trough when we mobbin’ in
who that, that’s nasty baby
in a old school rental, n-ggas can’t get it
nasty baby, shout out to trap lord rental
we in the building n-ggas renting it
nasty baby bout end this sh-t

[verse 2: a$ap twelvyy]
i spit that murder murder murderous sh-t
that vocal venom, dopest rhythm you could probably hit the curb with this sh-t
there ain’t no money in the hood they hit bird the sh-t
and cut the middleman out he ain’t deservin’ his split
and get the cream with the people, divide the sh-t equal
f-ck the evils, we gon’ stack this paper for our sequel
that’s a goal, drop a quick gem for the people
i’m a star, spittin’ hot lava man i lethal
like madonna, n-ggas on us, triggas on us
hit the corners, they swarm us, they didn’t warn us
wale, they coming through with the with the war its
hop out of the porsche and head to the fortress
over the the west side, harlem let them techs fly
can’t believe a n-gga used to work up in that best buy
now a n-gga top 5, nothing like michelin
always in that crown hot, something like [?]
and i get the crowd live, and i bring the b-tches in
[?], [?]
asap worldwide, young n-ggas gettin it
hittin this, spittin this [?]

[verse 3: a$ap ant]
hold on, drive slow
mask on, gun low
balla on the court dishin’ out like rondo
got everything you need, weed or the cocaine
if a n-gga bleed leave him dead like cobain
five pugs looking like a bunch of f-ckin lo mein
brain on drugs, hand on snubs on my way to the drugs
andrew jackson
money confession got your b-tch undressing, givin out lessons
anybody can get it, f-ck n-ggas that frontin cause i’ve done did it
got good aim so i shoot on my pivot
bring it to yo momma crib dirty chop the kitchen
trap house boomin, we still pitchin
all blue 7 you would thought i was crippin
all gold cross turned my friend to a christian
hope i dont die before i turn 21
not tryna die from the barrel of the gun
imma keep rhymin, imma go diamond, thug in this industry
this is where the win is me, get yourself on yo feet
if you f-ckin feelin me

[verse 4: asap nast]
who shot the sheriff, i said me b-tch
screamin out who runnin who runnin like we was 3-6
a$ap be the mafia, who stoppin us
motherf-ckers can’t do the job for us
so i murder n-gga leave em red up on the corner
flacko told me put em on em
so i’m buzzing like a h-rnets nest
too cold for these b-tch i’m boning
nasty baby , spittin off the top too
i’m over the block too
who want it i got two
i put shots in you, and whoever come through my block
(rocky; or ya top too, even with ya chip tooth)
ya rock too and you know i got you

[interlude: a$ap rocky]
f-ck it listen
ugh
a$ap worldwide n-gga
you know how that sh-t go down
ayo flex i told you i got you my n-gga
i told you i got you

[verse 5: a$ap rocky]
feeling like a vigilante or a visionary
back when cemeteries, death
or thoughts of prison couldn’t scare me
shoot at military don’t believe me doggie
triple dare me, check your dictionary
find me under none, fictionary
lifes a game of pictionary
sitting on that train
fancy guads and master keys
whip em like a scape
harlem east side get that cake
west side get that bread
got a murder mob on way
my bx n-gga techs n-gga
young n-ggas, dumb n-ggas
shoot before they think
get tipped off get clipped off
then living in the clink
get washed up then rinsed off
young pup with the big dog
young buck wearing big draws
p-ss poor to the crystal
jump jump like criss cross
crossed off like chris paul
big guns call em rick ross
broke home make my d-ck soft
l!ck b-lls then d-ck pause
i spit raw make them sh-t jaw
i ain’t even mad so just imagine when i’m p-ssed off

[verse 6: a$ap ferg]
in a dark room in harlem
thinking bout shots
and how it barely grazed me
and it coulda hit rock
and a couple of other n-ggas
but they all roll on my block
machiavelli from harlem
how you wanna be pac
wanna be a jiggy n-gga
from the east coast right
the beast coast right
i know you feelin the feet close right
you know i can see it in ya face
your t–th all tight
well flex got beats
we can beef all night
schoolboy you better school ya boy
hit you wit the ruler boy
i’m the new 50 cent i will f-cking ja rule ya boy
chillin to shabba ranks
fo’re i hit you with the tooler boy
hit em with the chopsticks
and f-cking tai fool ya boy
i don’t sell rocks
n-gga i smoke em
bobby selling crack and thats no joking
the beat had me laced
i started west coast-in
sh-t was too potent
and now i’m ready to poke somethin’
rock you wanna know sumn?
sherane got good brain
a couple harlem n-ggas
said that b-tch up in the chicken wing
you top dog i heard you in a l!ck of things
a hollywood bully where you
[?]

- aap mob lyrics

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