Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Y.N.A.F., artist - ALLBLACK
Date of issue: 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 |