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asap 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
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 motherf-cka with the magnum forty-four
’bout a jump snump, n-gg-, magnum on the road
body full of bullets when he 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
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 1]
ride maybachs like ross (ugh)
550 benz four doors
praying for my n-gg-s, 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
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
putting your back and your lung on the floor
rat-a-tat-tat and you go see the lord
b-tch like horse, action or pause
want more s-x, 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 b-tch and she makin’ it clap
i’m palmin’ a fifth like i’m givin’ 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
2-thou for the grill, they cost
white gold teeth, no floss
young trap lord like doss
two b-tches in the crib, no drawers
she rockin’ the mic with her jaws
i call that b-tch nicki minaj
she pop more pills no cough
when sh-t get real she stop
givenchy my b-tches
smoke that life till you n-gg-s see god
gettin’ head in the foreign cars
get the head from the foreign broads
asta la vista, senor
p-ssy -ss n-gg-s a see allah

[hook]

[outro: a$ap yams]
so it’s like, “f-ckin’ problems,” platinum
(bling, bling) longlivea$ap number one alb-m in the country
(bling blow) sold out tours, what’s next?
trap lord
let these motherf-ckers 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 compet-tion anymore

- asap ferg lyrics

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