ASAP Ferg - Let it go lyrics
rate me(Intro)
Trap Lord season begins, now repent your sins
This Yamborghini on the motherfuckin' 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 motherfucka with the magnum forty-four
Find a chump slumped, nigga, magnum on the road
Body full of bullets when they found him on the road
Lay a fucker 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)
Ride Maybachs like Ross (Ugh)
550 Benz four doors
Praying for my niggas, they lost
Dyin' no thing, they wolves
Ridin' on a gang that floss
Multiplyin by the gang that bucks
Pull a 9 on anything we spark
Ménage ain't a thing they whores
Pussy 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 go see the lord
Bitch like horse, X In Her Pores
Want more sex, all in her jaws
Molly!
(Hook)
(Verse)
I'm grippin' 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 cab
The nine is a bitch and she makin' it clap
I'm palmin' a fifth like I'm givin' a dap
Be ready to scrap 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 bitches in the crib, no drawers
She rockin' the mic with her jaws
I call that bitch Nicki Minaj
She pop more pills no cough
When shit get real she spark
Givenchy my bitches
Smoke that life till you niggas see God
Gettin' head in the foreign cars
Get the head from the foreign broads
Hasta la vista, señor
Pussy ass niggas a see Allah
(Hook)
(Outro)
So it's like, "Fuckin' Problems," platinum
(bling, bling) LongLiveA$AP number one album in the country
(bling blow) sold out tours, what's next?
Trap Lord
Let these motherfuckers have it
Let them know we not playing this year
The limb's never been so relaxed, ever
It's lonely at the top; all this shrimp, nobody 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 competition no more
