Tag: Dapper Dan


A$AP Ferg – Kristi YamaGucci Lyrics




[Intro: NickNPattiWhack]
Aw lord baby, she got a flip phone
Damn baby, I been smokin’
Been chokin’ and its so potent baby, we high baby
And you got the silver Gucci by my man Ferg, baby
You a giant baby, you steppin’ on these niggas’ necks
Sometimes you gotta just ease that left foot off baby
And then put your right foot on the, on the top of them, baby
And choke them even harder
‘Cause you’s a dawg, you’s fuckin’ champ, these are puppies baby
They can’t fuck with you baby, lord

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Racks on racks on racks, Dapper Dan all on my back
Double G all on my cap, monogram on a Maybach
Testin’ that pussy like Pap (smear), eatin’ that bitch from the back (yeah)
Mumble rap all on that cat (yeah), [Lil Pump?] she makin’ it clap
I’m ’bout to write Yammy a letter, tell ’em I’m doin’ way better
“Plain Jane” the song of the year, I’m busy just chasin’ the lettuce
I’ma Calvin Klein model on billboards, I did a campaign with the fellas
Adidas done gave me another deal and Hennessy too, they got cheddar (alright)
Shoot videos in the PJs, then I go hop on a PJ (yeah)
They sendin’ me all these free clothes, momma just put it on eBay
I run the shit like a relay, niggas gon’ have to press replay
Yammy say hi to my daddy for me and Jam Master Jay for TJ

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Goddamn, nigga
When it be raining outside nigga, you the umbrella
‘Cause that shit just bounce off you with that Gucci
God, nigga I’ma call you Kristi YamaGucci, baby
‘Cause you just all over the fuckin’ world with this shit, baby
Niggas cannot touch you

[Verse 2: Denzel Curry]
Trench coat mob is a Go-Go Gadget
You don’t wanna see a pretty scene get drastic
Fuckin’ with the lords, no Frodo Baggins
Niggas bring your clothes to the screen like a fat bitch
Even though my name is Denzel, no actin’
Pap-pap, puttin’ everything inside a casket
Track that, everything is gonna be a classic
Wrap that, put that bitch inside a prophylactic
When I’m rappin’, got no hard-on, double tappin’
From a city built on coke and pistol-packin’
See you flaggin’ and they packin’ what you lackin’
Take you out and then they act like nothin’ happen
Amnesia, got rid of the heater
Back in the hood where they blowin’ on reefer
I follow the light while you follow the leader
Now a nigga overseas where they checkin’ my Visa, look

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Nah baby, what kinda flip phone you got?
Is that a Nextel baby, Chirp baby
This nigga got a Boost, baby, what the fuck
Nigga, you gotta step it up
You need to get you a trap phone
You need to get one of these fuckin’ Motorolas
Niggas can’t even track us, baby

[Verse 3: IDK]
Finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, dunk, yeah
Ballin’ on my enemies, I ain’t even tyin’ up to punks
Imagine when I tie ’em up, yeah
I shake ’em, they gon’ need a crutch, yeah
And I ain’t talkin’ groupie bitches when I say they got their panties in a bunch
I’m talkin’ niggas, I ain’t talkin’ nada
They ain’t talkin’ figures, gotta be six, seven or better
Tryna get a house, gotta get my bread up
Tryna stay on pace? you gon’ have to step up
Cruisin’ in a Wraith, see if they make a get-up
Pull up to the place, fucked her when we met up
Yeah, I’m gettin’ buzz, but I never let up
I ain’t seen a doctor, but I got my check up, check up, check up, check up, check up
I’m playin’ chess, you stuck on checkers
That’s why your gang can never check us
They take your chain, and now you neck-less
Check up, check up, check up, check up
I got a check on my watch (wait)
I’m losin’ track of time ’cause I don’t hear tick or no tock (yeah)




ASAP Ferg – Kristi YamaGucci lyrics




Aw lord baby, she got a flip phone
Damn baby, I been smoking
Been choking and its so potent baby, we high baby
And you got the silver Gucci by my man Ferg, baby
You a giant baby, you steppin’ on these niggas’ necks
Sometimes you gotta just ease that left foot off baby
And then put your right foot on the, on the top of them, baby
And choke them even harder
‘Cause you’s a dawg, you’s f*cking [??], these are puppies baby
They can’t f*ck with you baby, lord

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Racks on racks on racks
Dapper Dan all on my back
Double G all on my cap
Monogram on a Maybach
Testing that n*gger like Pap (smear)
Eating that bitch from the back (yeah)
Mumble rap all on that cat (yeah)
Lil Pump she makin’ it clap
I’m ’bout to write here me a letter
Tell ’em I’m doing way better
“Plain Jane” the song of the year
I’m busy just chasing the lettuce
I’ma Calvin Klein model on billboards
I did a campaign with the fellas
Adidas done gave me another deal
And Hennessy too, they got cheddar (alright)
Shoot videos in the PJ’s
Then I go hop on a PJ (yeah)
They sending me all these free clothes
Momma just put it on eBay
I run the sh*t like a relay
Niggas gon’ have to press replay
Yammy say hi to my daddy for me
And Jam Master Jay for TJ

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Goddamn, nigga
When it be raining outside nigga, you the umbrella
‘Cause that sh*t just bounce off you with that Gucci
God, nigga I’ma call you Kristi YamaGucci, baby
‘Cause you just all over the f*ckin’ world with this sh*t, baby
Niggas cannot touch you

[Verse 2: Denzel Curry]
Trench coat mob is a Go-Go Gadget
You don’t wanna see a pretty scene get drastic
Fuckin’ with the lords, no Frodo Baggins
Niggas bring your clothes to the screen like a fat bitch
Even though my name is Denzel, no actin’
Pap-pap, puttin’ everything inside a casket
Track that, everything is gonna be a classic
Wrap that, put that bitch inside a prophylactic
When I’m rappin’, got no hard-on, double tappin’
From a city built on coke and pistol-packin’
See you flagging and they packin’ what you lackin’
Take you out and then they act like nothin’ happen
Amnesia got rid of the heater
Back in the hood where they blowin’ on reefer
I follow the light while you follow the leader
Now a nigga overseas where they checkin’ my Visa, look

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Nah baby, what kinda flip phone you got?
Is that a Nextel baby, Chirp baby
This nigga got a Boost, baby, what the f*ck
Nigga, you gotta step it up
You need to get you a trap phone
You need to get one of these f*ckin’ Motorola’s
Niggas can’t even track us, baby

[Verse 3: IDK]
Finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, dunk, yeah
Ballin’ on my enemies, I ain’t even tying up to punks
Imagine when I tie ’em up, yeah
I shake ’em, they gon’ need a crutch, yeah
And I ain’t talking groupie bitches when I say they got their panties in a bunch
I’m talking niggas, I ain’t talking nada
They ain’t talking figures, gotta be six, seven or better
Tryna get a house, gotta get my bread up
Tryna stay on pace? you gon’ have to step up
Cruising in a Wraith, see if they make a get-up
Pull up to the place, f*cked her when we met up
Yeah, I’m getting buzz, but I never let up
I ain’t seen a doctor, but I got my check up, check up, check up, check up, check up
I’m playing chess, you stuck on checkers
That’s why your gang can never check us
They take your chain, and now you neck-less
Check up, check up, check up, check up
I got a check on my watch (wait)
I’m losing track of time ’cause I don’t hear tick or no tock (yeah)


Jay-Z – U Don’t Know


[Jay-Z]
Turn my music high, high, high, high-er
{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
Sure I do

I’m from the streets where the
Hood could swallow ’em and, bullets’ll follow ’em and
There’s so much coke that you could run the slalom
And cops comb this shit top to bottom
They say that we are prone to violence, but it’s home sweet home
Where personalities clash and chrome meets chrome
The coke prices up and down like it’s Wall Street holmes
But this is worse than the Dow Jones, your brains are now blown
All over that brown Brougham, one slip you are now gone
Welcome to Hell, where you are welcome to sell
But when them shells come you better return ’em
All scars we earn ’em, all cars we learn ’em like the back of our hand
We watch for cops hoppin’ out the back of vans
Wear a G on my chest, I don’t need Dapper Dan
This ain’t a sewn outfit holmes, holmes is about it
Was clappin’ them flamers before I became famous
For playin me y’all shall forever remain nameless
I am Hov’

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}

Sure I do, I tell you the difference between me and them
They tryin to get they ones, I’m tryin to get them M’s
One million, two million, three million, four
In just five years, forty million more
You are now lookin at the forty million boy
I’m rapin’ Def Jam ’til I’m the hundred million man
R., O., C

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
That’s where you’re wrong

I came into this motherfucker a hundred grand strong
Nine to be exact, from grindin’ G-packs
Put this shit in motion, ain’t no rewindin’ me back
Could make 40 off a brick but one rhyme could beat that
And if somebody woulda told ’em that Hov’ would sell clothing..
Not in this lifetime, wasn’t in my right mind
That’s another difference that’s between me and them
I smarten up, open the market up
One million, two million, three million, four
In eighteen months, eighty million more
Now add that number up with the one I said before
You are now lookin at one smart black boy
Momma ain’t raised no fool
Put me anywhere on God’s green earth, I’ll triple my worth
Motherfucker – I, will, not, lose

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
Put somethin’ on it

I sell ice in the winter, I sell fire in hell
I am a hustler baby, I’ll sell water to a well
I was born to get cake, move on and switch states
Cop the coupe with the roof gone and switch plates
Was born to dictate, never follow orders
Dickface, get your shit straight, fucka’ this is Big Jay
I.. hahahaha

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
.. will, not, lose, ever.. FUCKA!