lirik lagu big yavo & tle cinco – ask the promoters
[intro: big yavo]
gang
no, we ain’t tucking no chain no where (yeah)
(ayy, let that sh~t ride, tav)
on gang (lil’ boy)
say (h~ll is you doing?)
[chorus: big yavo]
i tell the plug sh~t gotta be musty (musty), i don’t even much want it, it ain’t got no odor (no)
tryna serve who at the door, man, this sh~t dead, artists don’t get touched, better ask the promoter (the f~ck is you thinking?)
b~tch, i’m from the hood, n~ggas sn~tch out your motor (n~ggas sn~tch out your—)
lil’ n~gga ridin’ with switch just like chauffeur (fah, fah)
lowkey be scared, they’ll tell you to go first (they’ll tell you to—)
baby, close your legs ’cause i want the throat first (i want that top)
[verse 1: big yavo]
get off this pack, one call, need some more work
n~gga told you he trappin’, but rеally a dope clerk
n~gga told you he trappin’, but hе ain’t sold no dope (no dope)
you thinkin’ ’bout taking me, that’s a no go (no, sir)
loose stick bullets, they bounce just like pogo (bah, bah)
when you walk in the trap, better make sure the door closed
i came from nothin’, now i’m richer than my teacher (nothin’)
dre just walked in with a dirty two liter
they play with fire, i pull up with that heater
i ain’t gotta rap, i got ‘bows of that ether (ether)
every day, i go get more money, monifah
pull up and serve old school out the regal
i told bubba, “roll up with exoto”
brand new glock take d~ck like a thot ho
ayy, i asked the b~tch if she f~cking or not
wrist off~road, got so many rocks
got so much in the clock
[verse 2: tle cinco]
ayy, ayy, i’m having fame, but i lowered that bl!ck
get in court with the judge and act like i ain’t see sh~t
lot of these n~ggas too broke, can’t beef with
switch on the gl!ck, this b~tch sound like a remix
ayy, i’m in the kitchen, i’m cookin’ a deep dish
she tryna f~ck, mike jack’, ho, beat it
ayy, b~tch leaving
play with that gang, is you tweaking?
designer drip, having sauce and season
empty the drum with a switch on that glock, ayy, get popped
she ain’t tryna f~ck, then she kicking some rocks
real hood baby, n~gga, long live joc
she finessin’ the kid, b~tch, stop
ayy, ayy, this rap sh~t, it’s gettin’ eazy~e
we the n~ggas who they wanna be
i got these young n~ggas spinning for free on me
young n~ggas shooting from three, deep
up in the field, where the f~ck is my cleats?
i pour a four in a soda, i’m geeked, codeine
ayy, long live bankroll, i keep it street
stalkin’ this opp like a motherf~ckin’ creep
i got some ice on my t~~th and it’s ice in my cup
ayy, firework, n~gga play and i’m lightin’ it up
i was a loose screw, i had to tighten it up
cuffin’ that ho, but she dyin’ to f~ck, ayy
[chorus: big yavo]
i tell the plug sh~t gotta be musty (musty), i don’t even much want it, it ain’t got no odor (no)
tryna serve who at the door, man, this sh~t dead, artists don’t get touched, better ask the promoter (the f~ck is you thinking?)
b~tch, i’m from the hood, n~ggas sn~tch out your motor (n~ggas sn~tch out your—)
lil’ n~gga ridin’ with switch just like chauffeur (fah, fah)
lowkey be scared, they’ll tell you to go first (they’ll tell you to—)
baby, close your legs ’cause i want the throat first (i want that top)
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