| Pull out them racks on a nigga, he’s so funny
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| He talk the most shit, but got no money
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| Tough on the 'net, but in person, a new Gandhi
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| Stand on my racks and I’m Mo Bambi
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| I mean Mo Bamba, anklets a new Honda
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| I need threes with TiTi and with La’Shonda
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| I get right, it’s on sight for you newcomers
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| I got two solid fists for you mouth-runners
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| With the gang out in public, we ho hunters
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| Kick that bitch out the spot like a team punter
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| Think it’s time I run up me a Bugatti
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| Got this bitch ridin' dick like a Ducati
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| Bought an AP plain jane out in Dubai
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| Actin' out for attention, the new guy
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| Got another lawsuit, need a new tie
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| Know some niggas switched up, turned Ifá
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| Know some niggas out West bangin' treetop
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| Made that bitch give me head 'til her knees pop
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| Switchin' sides on the gang, tryna ease out
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| Catch you slippin', we knockin' your teeth out
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| Tryna come down my block, need to reroute
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| Tryna see all that shit that you talk 'bout
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| Know it’s cap in your rap, you ain’t gotta lie
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| In LA with Zack Bia at Nice Guy
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| In LA with Zack Bia at Papis
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| I’m in Houston ho huntin' with Tati
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| I just had me a smooth little ten piece
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| Run it up
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| Stick on my back like I’m huntin' up
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| Yeah, if I let my dogs loose, they gon' run amuck
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| Quick to pull up with them 30s tucked
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| Run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin' tall
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| Hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul
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| I got big guap, big killers, big pieces
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| She wan' fuck the gang, told that bitch to write a thesis
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| Pull up all white, lookin' like I’m black Jesus
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| And my new crib fancy like the Saint Regis
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| Niggas sweet as shit, turn 'em to a Reese’s Pieces
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| Diamonds shinin' so damn bright, give a nigga seizures
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| Nothin' make me more happy than backends
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| I’m straight to no signal, them racks in
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| These new niggas' music is trashcan
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| He can’t feed his fans, so they fastin'
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| He told 'em, «Let's all go Muslim»
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| That bitch nigga ain’t out hustlin'
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| I said take a sip, why you guzzlin'?
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| Give me my damn cup back, nigga
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| I’m too rich to be out here tusslin'
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| Buddy just paid a rack for some 'Tussin
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| Hope he sick, 'cause that’s all that it’s good for
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| I wish that my big brother did more
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| I pray that my lil' sister live long
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| Paint the 'Rari all yellow like Armstrong
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| Got a stock with a stick, it’s an arm long
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| Wow
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| Heard they said I went broke, boy, was they wrong
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| I just cashed in a check, it’s a phone number
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| Bitch, your ass on the porch like the door number
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| We gon' track your ass down like LoJack
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| Why they playin' with me? |
| I need more racks
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| To the money, I’m runnin' up four flat
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| This shit right here gon' need four plaques
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| Run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin' tall
|
| Hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul
|
| I got big guap, big killers, big pieces
|
| She wan' fuck the gang, told that bitch to write a thesis
|
| Pull up all white, lookin' like I’m black Jesus
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| And my new crib fancy like the Saint Regis
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| Niggas sweet as shit, turn 'em to a Reese’s Pieces
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| Diamonds shinin' so damn bright, give a nigga seizures |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Black Jesus , by - Lil Yachty. Song from the album Lil Boat 3.5, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп