[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg] Flyer than a mothafucking propella Pretty bad bitch that’s so yella Finna bust a clip out 4 fellas Get it cracking on a bitch a like oh leather Too paid on a bitch like a O fella Too [?] on a bitch cuz my dope better Used to go to Mickie D’s with no chedda Now my show for a good fucking [?] Now [?] Most of your crew be [?] Two bitches like deja vu Blowing that skunk like Pepé Le Pew Make it hot in here like Nelly Make her side burn like Ashanti’s too Murdering Ink like I’m her daddy Fuck around and sing like Ja Rule [Hook: A$AP Ferg x4] Sing like I’m Ja Rule Fuck around and sing like I’m Ja Rule (Where would I be without my baby)

[Hook 1: A$AP Ferg] What you feel Don’t want you to run away from me darling This life can be so cold Now what you feel Don’t want you to run away from me honey I want us to grow old [Verse 1: A$AP Ferg] We talk about art then end up on sex We text for hours, you’re so complex Not your average girl in spandex Who chase Bent-e-leys and Rolex You wear them baggy jeans like Aaliyah Your body so mean, I can tell you got a booty like Selena Girl, you’re ’bout to have me catch a fever I can’t lie, I get happy every time a nigga see ya The way you move, the way you groove Is so appealing I’m usually not that dude caught up in all these feelings I’ve been around the world and dealt with all these women Through all these different girls, this is the realest feeling

[Produced by Stelios Phili] [Intro] They mad, they mad They mad, why they mad? They mad, and they mad They mad, they mad They mad, they mad They mad, and they mad You mad, you and you mad [Hook] I’m ballin’, ballin’, I’m shot callin’ Gotta brush the gold grills when I wake in the mornin’ You can smell that champagne when a nigga be yawnin’ And I’m straight shittin’ on you cause it’s lyrical on it Got a hundred dollar bill for every bump on your face I got a hundred dollar bill for every bump on your face I got a hundred dollar bill for every bump on your face I got a hundred dollar bill for every bump on your face

[Verse 1] Trap Lord in my belly, free my nigga Really Elijah smoking that smelly, ménage is in the telly Blind bitch name Shelly, dick under her belly I met that bitch at a fashion show, she was rocking Margiela I was with [?] rocking all that Versace Might be in there sailing smoking that Beijing Ten stacks in my pocket, for no reason I got it Fuck around and hit Sin City, tell that bitch to pop it What’s up with you and Purrp? I ain’t into all of that gossip He brought the funk into my crew, you gotta ask Rocky about it All I know is A$AP riding in them Maybachs 40. cal, we spray that, when AK brratt you take nap Oh, Lord, that Hood Pope – oh, Lord, that Trap Lord Why they call you Trap Lord? Cause you a rap Lord to my casket I ain’t bowing to no time, Hood Pope on my gold shine My dirty niggas wanna tote nine, but we talk rhyme I tell ‘em hold up

Big K.R.I.T. Ft. ASAP Ferg – Lac Lac (Lyrics) Hook: Big K.R.I.T] Lac, Lac, Lac, Lac, Lac Slammin’ the doors in the Pull up with hoes in the Diamond in the back, they chosen, uh, posted up Pourin’ up Be it the sticky icky got you rollin’ up Hold it up, be a soldier don’t be closin’ up Open your mind, open your mind Open your mind, open your mind This could be the day You don’t know the road, I could show the way