Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Y.N.A.F. , by - ALLBLACKRelease date: 19.07.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Y.N.A.F. |
| Well well well well |
| If it isn’t mister fool’s gold, mister gold plated |
| DTB on the beat, that’s bro |
| Doin' eighty down Labray and Lightyear |
| FaceTime with Guapdad 4K, showin' off my cleats |
| So fuckin' high, can’t close my eyes, and I can’t even think |
| I feel like Future when he made Harley and ate that bean |
| Rap niggas want the fame, that’s a goddamn shame |
| Kill ape jacket, mini-jeans and a Highline chain |
| Play 2K, fuck weak bitches, and brush them waves |
| That princess cut jesus piece on got him thinkin' he safe |
| That ain’t eczema, that’s a chain that gave you a rash |
| Your partner’s shit real but I bet he ain’t got no cash |
| Niggas gon' fake it to they grave just to get that ass |
| Jail ass niggas always talkin' 'bout what they had |
| I can’t believe you took a pic with that lil ass bag |
| Don’t even know you but that shit really made me mad |
| Pimp this, pimp that, but you out here trickin' |
| Take out the trash 'fore Ma Dukes give your ass the whippin' |
| Niggas ain’t never spent two months worth of rent at the Saks |
| I watched Lil Tyrone cop a house to the neck off packs |
| Foothill lookin' like a dyke club with all them straps |
| Put your gun down like Craig, that’s it and get whacked |
| All that Mayweather Ali hand throwin' is old |
| Put a price on my head, bet it won’t get sold |
| Dip your chain in some water, prove it’s real gold |
| Go ask them gangsters in your hood if I ever got hoed |
| Go ask the coldest pimp you know if I really stand toes |
| Let’s play a game called show me, whip out your cheese |
| Niggas got chargers, wallets, lint, more lint |
| Carmex, fourteen dollars, and a dream in them broke ass jeans |
| Look around at what I built, they know I’m all about it |
| Might flip pack on DL but never talk about it |
| The only one that know it’s me, I ain’t told no one else |
| You all for the 'Gram 'til you go down, you done told on yourself |
| Top floor all Caucasian, I’m the hype though |
| My daddy was a Panther, give a fuck about these white folks |
| Black and beautiful, I’m the owner, that’s unusual |
| I could’ve hired your mama, had that bitch all in the cubicle |
| They throw money at me 'cause my talent indisputable |
| Luckily I’m musical but still got pharmacueticals, uh-huh |
| Lookin' at you niggas, you a boy band, why |
| 'Cause you be on the gram with your boy bands |
| Backstreet ass niggas, in sync with that fraud shit |
| I run big play, I get burned like a wall sit |
| One funny move, have my young niggas called up |
| Run through your crib then get dipped like it’s salsa, uh-huh |
| Thank you, very much, yeah |
| BLACK, what’s the deal my baby? |
| Hey, outcall for five hundred, let her keep two |
| Spent your motherfuckin' rent on a jump shoe |
| Makin' plays, avoiding 12, I’m tryna be smooth |
| Police tryna catch me with that ratchet like the green room |
| Skrrt skrrt, actin' bad, forty in my hand |
| Pull up and whack niggas like Jody and his mans |
| White twenty-ball on me, courtesy of scams |
| Gotta keep that Tommy close, Martin, Gina, Pam |
| Couple people rooted for me 'til I took off, huh |
| Some ain’t start rooting 'til I took off |
| Riding with that big motherfucker like I’m Rudolph |
| Y’all niggas lame as hell and y’all look soft |
| Ass full of stretch marks and it’s soft as hell |
| Soon as I bust this nut, bitch go talk to Mel |
| Care package on his head, get him offed in jail |
| Nigga I ball like I lost my scales |
| Real niggas with me, it’s hereditary |
| Five-six-seven-four, bitch we legendary |
| Out here in the field like the secondary |
| You ain’t got no thirty on you like February |
| Flashing guns all on Insta, I’m still not convinced |
| Crib full of dog food like I’m Michael Vick |
| I won’t take the trash out if I ain’t got the stick |
| If police use my raps in court then I’m out this bitch |