Lyrics:
school, bare yackety yack yack
Og du veit at jeg aldri kan vær wack
Jeg er mester I rock, og trap crap
Går med eyeliner, alltid matt black
Jeg er som Lil
the back of the Ac', backpack rap crap, yap-yap, yackity-yack
And at the exact same time, I attempt these lyrical acrobat stunts while I'm practicin' that
the back of the Ac', backpack rap crap, yap-yap, yackity-yack
And at the exact same time, I attempt these lyrical acrobat stunts while I'm practicin' that
smackin those yaddy-yacks and ducks keep quackin
hands that are clappin end up cracklin
under the heat the pressure from the one thats deffer
Egyptian ruler
at.
You see a nigga with a nice watch, nigga get that.
Young rich cat, pitch crack, you against me is a mismatch.
I spit murder and sip yack, team bang
boy
I make dough but don't call me Dough Boy
This ain't no fucking motion picture
A guy or bitch-a, I'll get wit'cha
And hit you taking that yack
the glock, that's the sounds of the mini mack
Where we at, uptown where its really at
Here me yack, I want the mansion, the yacht
Advance on the spot, we can
This ain't no fucking motion picture
A guy or bitch-a, I'll get wit'cha
And hit you taking that yack to the neck
So you better run a check
So come
then black
Out and relapse 'til I yack Jack Daniels and 'gnac (woo)
Burp bubbles, attitude's immaturin'
Double shot of Bacardi, party, vision is
A guy or trick-a, my homie get wit'cha
And hit you taking that yack to the neck
So you better run a check
So come on and chickity-check yo' self
back (Baby)
It's the sounds of the motherfuckin' Brat (Baby)
In the corner passing blunts sippin' Yack (Baby)
And if you must play the game
yourself
Stop being a server, get a meal yourself
Where your heart at, all that yick-yack, ain't nobody scared of your gats
We got bigger ones
How many
back
It's just that when I think of you it makes me want to yack, ack
But what else can I do? I haven't got a clue
Now I guess I'll just move on, I
that kitty sound kitty
Sound
Here kitty kitty let
Me pat it out
Pat it out
Not white
Diamonds, but they
Yack brown
Here kitty kitty
motherfuckers, no hood rats
Yeah we suited and booted, you know your bitch 'bout to toot it
She want love from a nigga, that's a heart attack, Yack!
Loud pack,
you think she's not thinking of me
She'll go down on a yack, lick a horse's nutsack
But strictly for the cash
And it's only me who doesn't pay
the yack threw your head back
The big time is what you wanted
And now you got it
The devil put the strap in your palm
And you shot it
Chorus
It's
West Coast life
We coast like I drink all day down MLK
With a bitch in the back, breaking up the blunt from my muthafuckin' sack
Pass my yack, where
love from a nigga, that's a heart attack, Yack!
Loud pack, give me all of that
Don't be sending naked pics 'cause my phone tapped
Black Mas, duffel
Packin' a MAC in the back of the Ac'
Backpack rap crap, yap yap, yackety yack
And at the exact same time I attempt these
Lyrical acrobat stunts while
I'm
yack
So watch where ya goin and know where you at
Cause me and my goonz don't
Know you like that never been a sucka
Metal in the duffle i'm all about my
piece of bud i was rolen was stolen
we would laugh at the jacks over six packs and yacks
spit the emos over demos thinken ladies and lemos
you was
keeping' rap on tilt
Like drinkin' pathrone and jack prone then yack on silk quilts
Gotta fat dome that'll last long if that's where I'm skill't
Giant,
them pawn yacks
[Method Man]
I say my girl, like to party all the time, Ghost
Spend up my ends, every week, she always crime broke
Thank God it's
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