Ye Ali Visuals Lyrics
Visuals by Ye Ali
(Spoken Word Intro: G. O. D Jewels)
I wake up and see the realest of nigga-visions
Bitches with fat asses, and A-cups with no makeup
Why is it always the fake fucks that got they cake up?
Real niggas still waitin for they break, bruh
It was April, and I was thinking about May bucks
Tryna figure out how I'ma cop that Maybach
But you still gotta pay for the chauffeur
You still need diamond grills, and mo fur
You still need to be able to throw a stack at yo main bitch and be like, "hoe splurge."
On couture
Oh word?
Niggas chasin that Yeezy level, but
We achieving that deity level
That, that, that encyclopedia level
That, you could break it down to me and I'ma still dig you without even needin no shovel, level
Give me medium treble and a Roley with a premium bezzle
Please, that syrup in her cup ain't Aunt Jemima
She wouldn't suck me up, just gave me straight vagina
Iain even know you hoes still existed
Girl my dick clean
Give this pole a licking of your own conviction
I am embolden bitches with the coldest scripture
That's corrosive pimpin'
Chuuch
She reached in her bag and pulled out 4 mollies
And her shoes was Cavalli's
(Verse 1: ye Ali)
Flow's godly
I'm bein modest
If I had one wish, I'd bring back Big Poppa
I'm Coogi down to the socks, bruh
My music's like heavy metal and opera
World on my shoulders, I'm bout to shot put
Who know where we goin, I'm not the driva
They say god got a master plan
Well I need a fucking crib that got a master bath
And a bachelor pad
And a launching pad
I called destiny, but she ain't call me back
I really wish I was still a kid
I had one hobby, now that's my job and shit
But I'm not complainin
I'm on this airplane
I think we goin to Thailand
Get clothes and you're invited
To a place where everything
Is so enjoyable
The bullshit stops here
Baby, where you goin?
I wake up and see the realest of nigga-visions
Bitches with fat asses, and A-cups with no makeup
Why is it always the fake fucks that got they cake up?
Real niggas still waitin for they break, bruh
It was April, and I was thinking about May bucks
Tryna figure out how I'ma cop that Maybach
But you still gotta pay for the chauffeur
You still need diamond grills, and mo fur
You still need to be able to throw a stack at yo main bitch and be like, "hoe splurge."
On couture
Oh word?
Niggas chasin that Yeezy level, but
We achieving that deity level
That, that, that encyclopedia level
That, you could break it down to me and I'ma still dig you without even needin no shovel, level
Give me medium treble and a Roley with a premium bezzle
Please, that syrup in her cup ain't Aunt Jemima
She wouldn't suck me up, just gave me straight vagina
Iain even know you hoes still existed
Girl my dick clean
Give this pole a licking of your own conviction
I am embolden bitches with the coldest scripture
That's corrosive pimpin'
Chuuch
She reached in her bag and pulled out 4 mollies
And her shoes was Cavalli's
(Verse 1: ye Ali)
Flow's godly
I'm bein modest
If I had one wish, I'd bring back Big Poppa
I'm Coogi down to the socks, bruh
My music's like heavy metal and opera
World on my shoulders, I'm bout to shot put
Who know where we goin, I'm not the driva
They say god got a master plan
Well I need a fucking crib that got a master bath
And a bachelor pad
And a launching pad
I called destiny, but she ain't call me back
I really wish I was still a kid
I had one hobby, now that's my job and shit
But I'm not complainin
I'm on this airplane
I think we goin to Thailand
Get clothes and you're invited
To a place where everything
Is so enjoyable
The bullshit stops here
Baby, where you goin?