Lyrics Yellow Tape - Fat Joe, Lil Wayne, A$AP Rocky

Yellow Tape

Attention please, attention please
This feel like the whole entire world collapsed
Uhh, this that yellow tape shit — they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks — we ain’t running out of it
This our fucking hood bitch — run yo' ass up out of it
This gun come with eight clips — shoot 'til I run out of it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it
Work, I got it… I got it, WHOOOO…
This that yellow tape shit, me I’m 'bout to go ape shit
Got eight chicks on eight molly’s and they about to take eight trips
Dice game, eight trips, got a Houston Rocket from J Prince
She get it poppin, I’m a send her shopping and that ain’t even my main bitch
Home invasions, live action, smoker Joe, I’m hijacking
Wrote the dope had my dough, I’ll be there, Five Jacksons
Sin City, K.O.D., hundred thousand all in one’s
Versace jacket, Versace shoes, Versace shades, I got a thousand suns
Mama you the shit I’ll pay your car note
Why you fucking with him?
Even his car broke
We rocking Balmain’s down to the cargo’s
Your bitch so thirsty, Murcielago
Uhh, this that yellow tape shit — they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks — we ain’t running out of it
This our fucking hood bitch — run yo' ass up out of it
This gun come with eight clips — shoot 'til I run out of it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it
Yeah, WHOOP!
WHOOP!
WHOOP!
Call me Joey I’m a Bada$$, Harlem world like Baghdad
Come through with a black flag and Supreme Vans, the Half Cabs
Bitches on that Pad-ad, fuck her with her fat ass
I get-gets my dick licked, my friends hit (That's swag swag)
What the fuck you mean, I be sitting clean sipping lean
Alexander Wang, that’s the fucking jeans, triple beam
When I serve the fiends, hit you with the beam chopper scream
Leave a nigga dead fucking with the team, magazine
Choo-Choo that train go, drink slow, my chain gold
Soo-Woo or you true blue, don’t get your block yellow taped off
Eight bricks get it shaved off, yeen ho yeen' know
Range Rove or the bank
Roll, I shoot-shoot then change clothes
Uhh, this that yellow tape shit — they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks — we ain’t running out of it
This our fucking hood bitch — run yo' ass up out of it
This gun come with eight clips — shoot 'til I run out of it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it
Han!
Han!
Han!
Work
Work
Work
Work
Work
Work
Work
Work
Work
I got it
I got it
I got it
You know we loaded with them choppers by the hundred boy
When you talk about that work, you niggas unemployed
White work, I got it (got it), brown work, I got it (got it)
2 Chainz, show your Tity ho, damn right I got it
Just copped about eight bricks, just copped about eight whips (haah)
Copped work from Saint Nick (haah), your whole stash like eight nicks (AAAH!)
Smoke that loud and keep it quiet, let that money talk
Get that brown bag and I skate off like I’m Tony Hawk
Benz drop my top back, your bitch look, I slide that
To the South Bronx and I pop that;
she call you for that ride back (Haan)
South Bronx we got it (got it), Joe Crack we got it (got it)
Black card no limit ho, damn right we 'bout it
Coke Boy, Joe Crack
Uhh, this that yellow tape shit — they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks — we ain’t running out of it
This our fucking hood bitch — run yo' ass up out of it
This gun come with eight clips — shoot 'til I run out of it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it