A$AP Ferg - Let It Go

 

Lyrics to Let It Go by A$AP Ferg

  [Intro: A$AP Yams] Trap Lord season begins, now repent your sins This Yamborghini on the motherf-ckin' check-in You know I had to hang-glide through for this one You know, we at the all-star game right now Eyes closed (swish) shootin' fade aways from half-court (elbow in the rim and all that) (y'all still in the D-League doing, uhh, layup drills) Ya feel me? [Hook] Kill a motherf-cka with the magnum forty-four Find a chump slumped, n-gga, magnum on the road Body full of bullets when they found him on the road Lay a f-cker down, spray it at him then reload This that Fergenstein and I be down to let it go The semi or the tech, spray it at him then reload This that Fergenstein and I be down to let it go The semi or the tech, spray it at him then reload [Verse 1] Ride Maybachs like Ross (Ugh) 550 Benz four doors Praying for my n-ggas, they lost Dyin' no thing, they wolves Ridin' on a gang that floss Multiplyin by the gang that bucks Pull a 9 on anything we spark Ménage ain't a thing they whores Pussy so good, need more Let me get in those drawers 5-0 in the corner store He heard all them claps with a round of applause Spit at your back and you lie on the floor Rat-a-tat-tat and you go see the lord Bitch like horse, X In Her Pores Want more sex, all in her jaws Molly! [Hook] [Verse 2] I'm grippin' the mac and you under attack Spit at your back and you takin' a nap No heart a be pumpin', your body relaxed You talk to me dumb and that's how I react one arm in the air like I'm waving a cab The nine is a bitch and she makin' it clap I'm palmin' a fifth like I'm givin' a dap Be ready to scrap when you talk to the Trap (My condolences) You are now talking to a boss Lou Bang still ride in the Porsche 2-thou for the grill, they cost White gold teeth, no floss Young trap lord like Doss Two bitches in the crib, no drawers She rockin' the mic with her jaws I call that bitch Nicki Minaj She pop more pills no cough When shit get real she spark Givenchy my bitches Smoke that life till you n-ggas see God Gettin' head in the foreign cars Get the head from the foreign broads Hasta la vista, señor Pussy ass n-ggas a see Allah (FERGIE) [Hook] [Outro: A$AP Yams] So it's like, "F-ckin' Problems," platinum (bling, bling) LongLiveA$AP number one album in the country (bling blow) sold out tours, what's next? Trap Lord Let these motherf-ckers have it Let them know we not playing this year The limb's never been so relaxed, ever It's lonely at the top; all this shrimp, nobody to share it with We ain't trippin' though Y'all walkin' 'round with wrinkled silks, looking crazy Pay your dry-cleaning bill and all that (pay that, pay that) Cause it's like it ain't even a competition no more