Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Long Live A$AP, artist - A$AP Rocky.
Date of issue: 10.01.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Long Live A$AP |
I thought I’d probably die in prison, expensive taste in women |
Ain’t had no pot to piss in, now my kitchen full of dishes |
Nose bloody from that sniffin', your heroin addiction |
Trigger finger itching fuck parental supervision |
This be that murder business, little Timmy got that semi |
I ain’t kidding hide yo kittens, hit yo children with that Smith and |
A bunch of ignant little niglets, hard headed, never listen |
Purple sippin', finger twistin', teeth glisten like it’s Memphis |
A bunch of hypocritic Christians, the land of no religion |
My Santa Claus was missing, catch you slippin' then it’s Christmas |
Motherfuck a wishlist, my ghetto was ambition |
For my benjis and my Bentley, and them bitches now I gets gets |
On the road to riches, a diamond rings, designer jeans |
Toking on that biscuit till I’m no longer existing |
I wonder if they miss me, as long as I make history |
Now my soul is feeling empty, tell the reaper come and get me |
Who said you can’t live forever lied |
Of course, I’m living forever I’ll |
Forever, I’ll live long |
You can’t ever deny |
My flaws, I’m living forever I’ll |
Forever, I’ll LIVE |
Riding through your city like that motherfucka mine |
Or toking on that semi, rob a motherfucka blind |
License plate says wipe me down, car from 1989 |
But a nigga sits so pretty call that motherfucker fine |
Lost your motherfucking mind, what’s on your mind niggas talking down |
Never talk to cops, make him talk God when I tote that 9, he ain’t talking now |
Tell 'em watch your spine, I mean watch your back |
Better guide your track, better not look back |
Now stay in line, don’t step on cracks |
So you break her back I’m talking 'bout your mom |
Cause there’s killers in my town, making hits, sniffing lines |
Out committing crimes, wait for shit to simmer down |
Corrupted little minds, 8 and 9, finna shine |
On the grind, do you dirty with that shimmy shimmy ya |
Where they shoot without a purpose, services 'n hearses |
Kids who ain’t deserve it, can’t survive a thing, you’re worthless |
Strangers make me nervous, who’s that peekin' in my window with a pistol to my |
curtains? |
Pretty nigga rich, Flacko be the shit |
And that bitch, know we poppin' so she boppin' on this dick |
Nigga, R.I.P. |
to PIMP, can’t forget Little Flip |
And I take it out to Memphis so shout out to triple six |