ASAP Ferg – Kristi Yamagucci (feat. Denzel Curry, IDK & Nicknack)

[Intro: NickNPattiWhack]
Aw Lord baby, she got a flip phone
Da-damn baby, I been smokin’
Been chokin’ and it’s so potent baby, we high baby
And you got the silver Gucci by my man Ferg, baby?
You a giant baby, you steppin’ on these niggas’ necks
Sometimes you gotta just ease that, ease that left foot off baby
And then put your right foot on the, on the top of them, big baby
And choke them even harder
Cause you’s a dawg, you’s a, you’s a fuckin’ champ, these are puppies baby
They can’t, they can’t fuck with you baby, Lord

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Racks on racks on racks, (yeah) Dapper Dan all on my back (right)
Double G all on my cap, (yeah) monogram on a Maybach (smear)
Testin’ that pussy like Pap (smear), eatin’ that bitch from the back (yeah)
Mumble rap all on that cat (yeah), Lil Pump she makin’ it clap
I’m ’bout to write Yammy a letter, tell ’em I’m doin’ way better (right)
"Plain Jane" the song of the year (yeah), I’m busy just chasin’ the lettuce
I’m a Calvin Klein model on billboards, I did a campaign with the fellas (right)
Adidas done gave me another deal and Hennessy too, they got cheddar (alright)
Shoot videos in the PJs, (yeah) then I go hop on a PJ (yeah)
They sendin’ me all these free clothes, (right) momma just put it on eBay
I run the shit like a relay, niggas gon’ have to press replay
Yammy say hi to my daddy for me and Jam Master Jay for TJ

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Goddamn, nigga
When it be raining outside nigga, you the umbrella
‘Cause that shit just bounce off you with that Gucci
God, nigga I’ma call you Kristi YamaGucci, baby
‘Cause you just all over the fuckin’ world with this shit, baby
Niggas cannot touch you

[Verse 2: Denzel Curry]
Trench coat mob is a Go-Go Gadget
You don’t wanna see a pretty scene get drastic
Fuckin’ with the lords, no Frodo Baggins
Niggas bring your clothes to the screen like a fat bitch
Even though my name is Denzel, no actin’
Pap-pap, puttin’ everything inside a casket
Track that, everything is gonna be a classic
Wrap that, put that bitch inside a prophylactic
When I’m rappin’, got no hard-on, double tappin’
From a city built on coke and pistol-packin’
See you flaggin’ and they packin’ what you lackin’
Take you out and then they act like nothin’ happen
Amnesia, got rid of the heater
Back in the hood where they blowin’ on reefer
I follow the light while you follow the leader
Now a nigga overseas where they checkin’ my Visa, look

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Nah baby, what kinda flip phone you got?
Is that a Nextel baby, no, a Chirp baby
This nigga got a Boost, baby, what the fuck
Nigga, you gotta step it up
You need to get you a trap phone
Nigga you need to get one of these fuckin’ Motorolas baby
Niggas can’t even track us, baby

[Verse 3: IDK]
Finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, dunk, yeah
Ballin’ on my enemies, I ain’t even tyin’ up to punks, huh
Imagine when I tie ’em up, yeah
I shake ’em, they gon’ need a crutch, yeah
And I ain’t talkin’ groupie bitches
When I say they got their panties in a bunch
I’m talkin’ niggas, I ain’t talkin’ nada
They ain’t talkin’ figures, gotta be six, seven or better
Tryna get a house, gotta get my bread up
Tryna stay on pace? you gon’ have to step up
Cruisin’ in a Wraith, see if they make a get-up
Pull up to the place, fucked her when we met up
Yeah, I’m gettin’ buzz, but I never let up
I ain’t seen a doctor, but I got my check up, check up, check up, check up, check up
I’m playin’ chess, you stuck on checkers
That’s why your gang can never check us
They take your chain, and now you neck-less
Check up, check up, check up, check up
I got a check on my watch (wait)
I’m losin’ track of time ’cause I don’t hear tick or no tock (yeah)

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