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wrist up - a2p fred & 1900rugrat lyrics lyrics

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[intro: a2p fred]
oh
(plaque k!llin’ this beat)
ooh, man
a2p, f+ck n+gga

[chorus: a2p fred]
turn the lights off in this b+tch (woo), finna hold my wrist up (yeah)
lamb’ chop, amg maybachs how we push up
hit deebo ass with this bl!ck before i put my sh+t up (f+ck him)
b+tch keep askin’ is i’m straight, nah, i want my d+ck sucked

[verse 1: a2p fred]
he called for a plate and bought a cutie, n+gga b+tched up (p+ssy)
everything i got come from grindin’, ain’t no good luck
whole gang uppin’ glizzys if a n+gga get rough (get rough)
n+gga, play tough, we gon’ tear this b+tch up
when that sh+t come right you need a hammer just to break it up
i don’t want no f+ckin’ chicken wings, i’m goin’ steak, bruh (steak)
and don’t ask me ’bout no d+mn dessert, ’cause b+tch, i’m caked up
i just rolled over, sold three plates at 36 on the wake up (woo)
i got way more cheese than you, what the f+ck is there a debate for? (huh?)
you ain’t goin’ nowhere with me, b+tch, until you get that laced up
and don’t act like it’s a problem for me to pay for it ’cause it ain’t one (i swear to god)
i pay for that lil’ sh+t, b+tch, it ain’t nothin’ (uh+uh)
how your bd stress you out? he ain’t got nothin’ on nothin’
i’m mr. f+ck that poor+ass n+gga, call my phone, i’m comin’ (i’m on the way)
dumb+ass b+tch, i’m tryna boss you up, it ain’t just ’bout money
finger in her p+ssy, cuban hit the cl+t, she say, “bae, i’m cummin'” (uh+huh, uh+huh, uh+huh)
[chorus: a2p fred]
turn the lights off in this b+tch, finna hold my wrist up
lamb’ chop, amg maybachs how we push up (that’s how we ride)
hit deebo ass with this bl!ck before i put my sh+t up (f+ck him)
b+tch keep askin’ is i’m straight, nah, i want my d+ck sucked
turn the lights off in this b+tch (turn ’em off), finna hold my wrist up (yeah)
lamb’ chop, amg maybachs how we push up (that’s how we ride)
hit deebo ass with this bl!ck before i put my sh+t up (f+ck him)
b+tch keep askin’ is i’m straight, nah, i want my d+ck sucked

[verse 2: 1900 rugrat]
yeah, huh, yeah, huh
b+tch keep askin’ is i’m straight, nah, i need my d+ck l!cked (come here)
50 cal’ sniper, this b+tch here’ll flip a big b+tch (bah, bah)
i’m on big sh+t, boss sh+t, they still lookin’ for a small check (frrt, frrt)
we been spinnin’, spinnin, spinnin’, b+tch, sound like a car wreck (wah)
the opps be ball cap (yeah)
i be hatin’ when i miss bro call, i can’t even call back (i can’t even call back)
i done peeped the flaw sh+t (ha), gotta fall back (come on)
these rappers act like women, mad ’bout a follow back
it’s a blowout, go check the score, we got all the hats (bah, bah)
got her toes out, pretty face, might put her on her back (come here)
i went two and three in g23, b+tch, i can’t never lack (b+tch, i can’t never lack)
we done did him bad and took his pole just for the ceiling back (yeah, huh)
yeah, huh, i blessed them boy too many times, now i’m like, “where the love at?” (where the love at?)
‘member them times i posted on the porch, nothin’ but a dog sack (nothin’ but a dog sack)
that’s why when they need somethin’, i be holdin’ my nuts bad (nah, for real)
you be d+ck ridin’ the same sh+t your b+tch tuggin’ at (yeah, huh, huh, yeah)
your old musty+ass (ha) be your pole dusty+ass (ha)
want to front back in the day, your old poor hustlin’+ass (ha)
b+tch think she gettin’ paid (ha), better to throw somethin’ back (ha)
off the perc’, slumped on the wall like a thumbtack (ha, ha, ha)
smokin’ sixes, gg to the face, this ain’t no runtz pack (no)
eighth grade, i had a lil’ 380 in my lunch bag (bah, bah)
used to hang with big bro in the kitchen, always stunk bad (ha)
that boy say in the field, sh+t, he might get touched bad (grrah, grrah)
[chorus: a2p fred]
turn the lights off in this b+tch (woo), finna hold my wrist up (yeah)
lamb’ chop, amg maybachs how we push up
hit deebo ass with this bl!ck before i put my sh+t up (f+ck him)
b+tch keep askin’ is i’m straight, nah, i want my d+ck sucked



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