Joyner Lucas Run It

[Meek Mill:]

Cuban Linx and kilos

We might get the rico

Pull up on a sucka take his bitch like I was D Bo

Got the four five in the six call it Cee-Lo

Buying bottles with your cop money, nacho cheese Dorito (hol up!)

All of my niggas official as fuck

Big ass Mulsanne like I’m whipping the truck

I’m sippin’ Ciroc while I’m sittin’ with Puff

And talking ’bout business with Jigga at lunch

That’s cray, that’s cray

New toys, let’s play

I brought spades, with the deuce, like poof, let’s [?]

I must say, I get money, fuck ho, don’t pay

And I ball, in the clutch, Ray Al, for that tre

And I ride, for the Ye, West side, Kim K

White girl, through The Bay, my hood, I’m Mac Dre

Bitch, if money talks why you niggas never say shit?

If sky’s the limit, why I’m ridin’ in a space ship?

My money talkin’ and my Rollie never tickin niggas

Five bullets [?] on the wrist I’m official nigga

[Joyner Lucas & Timbaland:]

I’m feeling a way…

Whoa, run it

Run it

Run it

Whoa

This is what we do

Run it

Run it

Run it

Run it

Yeah

[Joyner Lucas:]

My bitch look like Halle

My bitch look like Kylie

Your bitch don’t look happy

None of ya’ll hoes can have me

Can’t touch me, can’t touch this

MC Hammer with the swaggy

Can’t cuff me, can’t function

Bitch, I don’t want to get married

They ain’t ever want me on payroll

They ain’t ever want me have say-so

Always had a crush on J-Lo

Thought I was the man ’til my chain broke

I was so broke can’t change clothes

You don’t keep it real, you a lame-o

You don’t make a move ’til I say so

When I get loose, anything goes

Money in the mother fuckin’ mattress

They was tryna take it, but I need to get away

I think I’m tripping cause a nigga never had it

I never had a way, I think I struggled every day

Talking to God I’m hoping he could do some magic

Hoping to get paid and then take all my stress away

And I could finally buy a mother fucking mansion

Then move my friends in, and get Benzs

Cause this shit sound like sci-fi

I ain’t ever had no wifi

I grew up where the guns went- (pow pow)

Almost got killed in a drive-by

Stay in your biz don’t mind mines

I’m in your top five’s top five

Can’t touch this nigga, why try?

Gimme yo shit or you might die

[Joyner Lucas:]

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Whoa, run it

Run it, run it

Run it, run it

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Wait, hold up, yo, look

[Joyner Lucas:]

Your shit sound like bubble gum, popcorn, starburst, chocolate

Gum drop, cupcake, milkshake, [?], candy cane, rainbow

Your shit sound like summer time, playground, third grade

Ice cream, fun pop, Reese’s, Hershey’s, swirly, lemonade, mango

Momma thought I was retarded

Daddy thought I was lethargic

They said I wasn’t the smartest

Grammy knew I was an artist

All of y’all niggas is trash, go throw your shit in the garbage

I threw your shit in the ocean, I hope it swim with the starfish

I remember when you wouldn’t fuck with me

Ain’t nobody wanna ride the bus with me

Ain’t nobody wanna share lunch with me

Family couldn’t keep in touch with me

Now they all can’t get enough of me

Now they want to fly with me in luxury

Same hoes never want to let me hit

Now they all want to bust nuts for me

Name another nigga poppin’ than me?

I never been cocky, but they don’t want a problem with me

And fuck all these haters that wanna take a dollar from me

Nigga fuck any rapper yo I don’t need a counter with me

Ain’t nobody wasn’t lookin’ for me, they was hiding from me

All of them was counting me out now they counting on me

I’m so motherfucking hot that the wind is a sauna to me

Right before I pull the trigger and begging that God forgive me I said

[Joyner Lucas:]

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Whoa, run it

Run it, run it

Run it, run it

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Run it, whoa

Run it, run it

Wait, hold up, look

Joyner Lucas Just Like You

I don’t wanna be nothin’ like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

I don’t wanna be anything like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

Look, I don’t wanna be no fuck nigga

I don’t wanna sell drugs, nigga

I don’t ever wanna fuck mad hoes

And then claim I can’t find love with ’em

I don’t wanna be no super thug

I don’t ever wanna get tripped up

I don’t wanna get drunk and high

And spend all my time in the strip club

Look, I don’t wanna ever go to jail and shit

Serve time and get bail and shit

Be a bum and start stealing shit

Fuck around and die and go to hell and shit

Yo, I don’t wanna be jobless

And I don’t wanna be heartless

Run around, tryna start shit

Pickin’ fights, thinkin’ I’m hot shit

Yeah, I don’t wanna become vengeful

And I ain’t into what you’re into

Pray to God I don’t run into

Someone just like you, my one issue

Hope one day, that shit does hit you

‘Cause you so goddamn judgemental

And I don’t wanna… look…

I don’t wanna be nothin’ like you

I don’t wanna be anything like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

I don’t wanna be anything like you

I don’t wanna be caught just like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

I don’t wanna be nothin’ like you

Uh, I don’t wanna be hopeless

A pretty girl with no focus

A single mom with like four kids

Never had much, never owned shit

And no school and no diplomas

Dropped out and don’t know shit

Steady sticking my nose in on your business

Spreading rumors, uh

I don’t wanna be chasing guys

Half ratchet, half sanctified

Giving all your friends lame advice

Always going out, can’t stay inside, yeah

I don’t wanna become trite

Content with my fucked up life

Little attitude, actin’ uptight

Never had a clue, but I love fights

No, I don’t wanna smoke cancer sticks

Going out every chance I get

I love the truth but can’t handle it

Tryna cover bruises with bandages

But I hope one day, that shit does hit you

Cause you so damn judgemental

And I don’t want…

I don’t wanna be nothin’ like you

I don’t wanna be anything like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

I don’t wanna be anything like you

I don’t wanna be caught just like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

I don’t wanna be just like you

I don’t wanna be nothin’ like you

I need someone to look up to

A role model I can run to

When I feel lost and I’m confused

And I’m out of touch with my young roots

I need confidence so that I can get

And I love you and your common sense

‘Cause lately, I’ve been tryna live this thug life

And I’m not convinced

Look, I love how you handle your own

Glad you are the king to your own castle

You handle life when it’s thrown at you

Never curl up, never faux fragile

I need you to be here, regardless

Teach me how to be there for my kids

Show me how to be fearless often

I need real guidance, I ain’t scared of options

Because of you, I’ve got a clearer conscience

Because of you, I’m not scared of monsters

Because of you, I’m not afraid of failure

When life was blurry, you made it clearer

And God forbid, if you died now

I know that I’d be well taken care of

I know you’ll be there waiting for me

I just wanna be just like you

I wanna be anything like you

I wanna be just like you

[Girl (Joyner Lucas):]

(Yo, what’s up, this is Joyner, I’m unable to take your call right now, leave me a brief message and I’ll get back to you, peace)

It’s really Valentine’s Day and I’m sitting here thinking I’m about to get a gift from this man but this man can’t even buy me a good dress because it’s fucking Tuesday. So why should I expect a gift on Valentine’s Day? And I’m here chewing on some fucking bubblegum waiting on some hard dick that’s probably in the next bitch right now. So you know what? I’ma go find me my own chocolate

Joyner Lucas I Need More

I need more hoes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more clothes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more dough

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more blow

Wha, wha, wha, whoo, whoo

I need more hoes

Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw, yeah

I need more clothes

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more dough

Wha, wha, wha, wha, yeah

I need more blow

Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah

I need more hoes

Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw, yeah

I need more clothes

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more dough

Wha, wha, wha, wha, yeah

I need more blow

Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah

You got some scary intentions

Your brain is clouded with too many possessions

You think you rich but you depressing yourself

It’s just so pathetic and materialistic

And all you do is flash your money and fortune

You ride around in that Ferrari and Porsches

And all you talk about is Bugatti and foreigns

You walk around like you somebody important

You surrounded by leaches and beggars

And none of them niggas wanna see you do better

I bet they plotting wanna see what you got

Cause you brag a lot and make it seem like they jealous

So what the fuck do you even see in the mirror

Your future couldn’t really be any clearer

And when it rains you gon’ need an umbrella

But don’t listen, you don’t see it or hear it

All you say is…

I need more hoes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more clothes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more dough

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more blow

Wha, wha, wha, whoo, whoo

I need more hoes

Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw, yeah

I need more clothes

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more dough

Wha, wha, wha, wha, yeah

I need more blow

Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah

I think you really aggressive

Your brain is clouded with too many possessions

You think you rich but you depressing yourself

It’s just so pathetic and materialistic

I really think that all them drugs got you tripping

Your brain is ruined and your logic is different

I know that syrup got your body in shivers

If I was you, I’d get that out of my system

And I think that you bugging and stuff

You just shit on everyone who’s stuck in a rut

Always flash your money out in public and stunt

And we all just look at you in fucking disgust

Maybe you’re just insecure with no luck

And deep down you’re a dub

Without nothing to love

And I wonder if you’ll ever realize what’s up

And be humble and just say enough is enough

But for now you just wanna say

I need more hoes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more clothes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more dough

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more blow

Wha, wha, wha, whoo, whoo

I need more hoes

Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw, yeah

I need more clothes

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more dough

Wha, wha, wha, wha, yeah

I need more blow

Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah

I need more hoes

Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw, yeah

I need more clothes

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more dough

Wha, wha, wha, wha, yeah

I need more blow

Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah

Yeah, I must be really possessive

My brain is clouded with too many possessions

I think I’m rich but I’m depressing and selfish

I’m so pathetic and materialistic

Like how the fuck I let the money do this

Man, I swear to God that I would never be tripping

I promised that I would have respect and be different

But now I make it rain on plenty of strippers

I’m surrounded by leeches and beggars

And none them niggas wanna see me do better

Bet they plottin’ want to take what I got

Cause I brag a lot and make it seem like they jealous

And I never had nothing

I just wanna live like them rappers on TV forever

But what have I become

Maybe I’m one of them

Maybe I just don’t know any better

And now what I’m sayin’ is

I need more hoes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more clothes

More, more, more, more, yeah

I need more dough

Yup, yup, yup, yup, yeah

I need more blow

Wha, wha, wha

Yo what’s up, this is Joyner I’m unable to take your message right now

Leave me a brief message and I’ll get back to you

Peace

Hello

Yo, nigga you fuckin’ serious?

Are you fuckin’ serious?

Yo, I swear to God

Yo, I knew I should have never fuck with you

You’re fucking dirty

You’re dirty, and you’re fuckin’ yo

You’re gonna be dead nigga

Yo are you serious you gave me fuckin’ Chlamydia

Chlamydia?

Yo, nigga, I swear to God

Wait ’till my brother comes home

Yo, Dom is gonna fuck yo shit up

Joyner Lucas Rock Bottom

Joyner

Yep

Ayo

This song right here for all the broke motherfuckers, the poor motherfuckers

Who ain’t never had shit

Rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Nah, never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Cause I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Nah, I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom

Man I never had shit

I never had cake

Used to sell drugs but I never had weight

Livin’ life fast like I never had breaks

Speakers on blast like I never had base

I never had friends, keep my enemies close

Roll the windows up if whenever we smoke

My niggas stay high they can never be low

And I lie to my bitch like I never had hoes

Never wish jail or death on a nigga

I never had tears or respect for a teller

I never did a beer till the cops come and get ’em

Even 27 years couldn’t stop the man dealin’

But I never cooked crack

Never took slack

Run away from home and I never looked back

Broke ass nigga livin’ life on the bottom

I was tryna touch a mil and put my mama in a condo

Up in Beverly Hills, maybe down south

Never been a funny nigga why start now

Dreams of a belly with a top dropped down

Tryna take my shit, then it’s po-po-pow

Never been a thug but I’m real acquainted

And you will never feel how real my pain is

And all your new shit sound real outdated

This is real rock bottom for the tears I tasted

Cause I never had shit nigga

Rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Nah, never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Cause I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Nah, I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom

Nah, I ain’t never been a rat (rat?)

Nah, I ain’t never have no money put the pennies in the bag

Cause I never had a stack (stack?)

Nah, I never been a bitch nigga, never had a pad

You ain’t never have a bag (bag?)

You ain’t never rode a bus, prolly never took a cab, gettin’ ride from your dad

But your momma at work takin’ money out her purse tryna pay for some work

Cause you never wasn’t nothin’ but a spoiled motherfucker

Tryna follow where your friends and magnolia motherfuckers

But you never give respect of a loyal motherfucker

You just want to be down, wanna live fast

Run away from home and don’t ever look back

Dreams of a beast livin’ life in a city

I’m just tryna touch a mil and put my momma in a mansion

All the way in Miami, maybe in the hill

Never had a job but the nigga got bills

And niggas run they mouth ’till the shit get real

And the thugs come out with the p-p-pill

Never been a thug but I’m real acquainted

You will never feel how real my pain is

And all your new shit sound real outdated

This is real rock bottom for the tears I tasted

Cause I never had shit

Rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Nah, never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Cause I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (Nah, I never had shit nigga)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom (I never had)

Been rock bottom

Been rock, rock bottom

Joyner Lucas Stranger Things

[Chris Brown:]

Bottles and a bucket full of ice (yeah)

Better make room, vroom hear the Lambo (celebrate)

Bitch better believe that I’ma sniper (yeah)

You know I’m ’bout to take you from your man though (celebrate)

Pop up with the chopper and artificial niggas actin’ like bitches, it done started up a epidemic

It don’t make a difference, nigga, we winnin’, I’m plenty grinnin’

A hundred million platinum, fuck it, you ain’t gotta listen (celebrate)

You better step down to me, feel the dick, bitch, open up your mouth for me

Now choke, talk to the dick honestly

I’m dope, bitch, comin’ like Eenie Meenie Miney Mo (celebrate)

I don’t like when I lose (I don’t), if I don’t buy her them shoes, I don’t like those (regulate)

Do anything that I want to it, think I’m gon’ dance on the moon like Michael (elevate)

[Joyner Lucas (Chris Brown):]

While I’m drivin’, I’m moonwalking in the sky

With some shooters, we jump inside of the Buick

You duck and hide from the Rugers

A couple choppers, acoustic and the guitar

When the music, guess I’m alive and I use it

Get stuck inside of the cubics

I never lie but the truth is

I’m fuckin’ tired of these losers

And all my life want the food

When it’s summertime and the juice

But I’d rather die than to lose

It’s a matter of time ‘fore I lose it

And strategize with the movement

Walk in the trap like a boss, ooh

Hoe, you know I’m drippin’ with the sauce, ooh

Pretty with a face full of scars, all they did was build me up

Try to take me apart, they ain’t never wanna (celebrate)

Like you have a label, call the doctor

Heard the chopper make ’em do the macarena

All you niggas sweet as candy

Chocolate chip and I relate to Jolly Ranchers

Stick to bubblegum and watermelon flavored

Get the paper, I’ma (celebrate)

On the corner

Heard you niggas got the juice, but I got Corona

Got a little Spanish bitch, I call her maricona

Joyner Lucas, bitch, I’m hotter than a fuckin’ sauna

Yeah, I make you niggas (elevate)

All you new niggas don’t do it for me, look (woah)

Bitch, I’m the professor, you a student to me, woah

Designer shades on, like you cooler than me, wait (ayy)

All we do is win, you a loser to me

Rappers wanna talk about battle me (Joyner)

You can’t give me neck with a mouth full of cavities

Bunch of lil niggas tried grabbin’ me (grabbin’ me)

Five foot five, boy, you niggas like half of me

You don’t wanna see the other side of me (yeah)

Hard to make ’em happy, all these bitches stay mad at me

I just might take her ’round to Applebee’s (Applebee’s)

Give her long dick and a strawberry daiquiri

[Chris Brown:]

Order Cheesecake Factory, bubblin’, why you mumblin’?

Watch you utter, stop stutterin’, what you spend? Let me double it

Lime green ‘rari, two twins, call ’em double mints

If all you pussy niggas my kids are in trouble then

Shut up before I spank you for actin’ up

Now I’m wakin’ up in cabanas ’cause she bad as fuck

And all gorillas don’t want bananas ‘less your chain is tucked

You wiggity-wack with the strap, you cross-criss, make you jump

I criss-cross with the pump, ain’t no bricks in the trunk

Leave that shit for the chumps, I still get what I want

Don’t wanna believe in my mind, but you believe in my dump

I’m takin’ a knee for my side, could give a fuck ’bout they owners

Nigga, look at my eyes, you ’bout to give me my bonus

And every motherfuckin’ record, that’s a hit, I record it (celebrate)

And every motherfuckin’ snitch up in this bitch, they reported (celebrate)

You paid your way for this fade and can’t even afford it

Seventy-five mil’, look at me now (celebrate)

And all these bad bitches can’t keep their feet down (elevate)

You don’t really wanna see Brown

Need to stop all that shit, talkin’ put the seat down

Joyner, I don’t really feel these niggas

Hol’ up, I ain’t gotta pay to kill these niggas

Time is money, need to fuck around and bill these niggas

Vet, so I’m finna good will these niggas (celebrate)

[Joyner Lucas:]

I’ma kill these niggas, I should grill these niggas

Take flex, Fresh Prince, Uncle Phil these niggas

Oh shit, I’m the shit, you could smell me, nigga

Break ribs, yeah, you don’t want no real beef, nigga

I say As-salāmu ʿalaykum when I tear apart some bacon

Hoe, you actin’ like a pig, you fuckin’ filthy, nigga

Now the police tryna lock me in the prison, said I’m guilty

I said da da da da da, come and kill me, nigga

[Joyner Lucas:]

They must have forgot that I’m pyscho (jheeze)

Oh, you want war? Say no more

Turn your fuckin’ block into a light show (Joyner)

[Joyner Lucas & Chris Brown:] You better be sure, better be sure

[Joyner Lucas:] I’m the realest nigga, that I know

[Joyner Lucas & Chris Brown:]

And I’m so bored, I might switch cars

Save a lotta money on Geico (jheeze)

And neighbors knockin’ on my door, what the fuck you want?

Bitch, I’m Irak (jheeze)

Listen, nigga, mind your business

I’m so sick of niggas tellin’ me how I’ve been livin’ my life

Sick of rubbin’ shoulders, now I’m runnin’ over every motherfucker who ain’t wanna get in my ride

I was watchin’, you was shoppin’

Ain’t never had the shit in my side

Now I’m poppin’, I’m poppin’, and your bitch keep hittin’ my line

[Chris Brown:]

It’s complicated, fuckin’ up with my main bitch

Givin’ it to the side bitch at the same damn time

Puttin’ my face in it, never wastin’ it

I’ma lay in it, hit it, hit it one more time

And then I’ma proceed and play with the pussy

You know I don’t keep my cape on a hoodie

But I give a Uzi, it’s a doozie, make a movie if you’re actin’, so (celebrate)

Joyner Lucas Who Got The Yayo?

Yeah, yeah

Who got the yayo? (Who got the yayo?)

Who got the…

Who got the yayo? Who got the yayo? (Who got the yayo?)

Who got the…

Who got the yayo?

Who got the… Who got the…

Who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I need some cut when I’m using the scale

I don’t sell drugs, it’s not really my style

But I need a plan if this music’ll fail

So who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I know some hustlers I’m cool with in jail

I’ll be god damn if I work a real job

I need thousands of dollars the movement is real

So who got the yayo?

Who got the plug?

Promised my auntie I’d never sell drugs

She told me pray if I ever need guidance

The truth was my logic, I never got love

Workin’ my ass off to see where it get me

I need some white girl, I need me some Becky

Packets of money, I bet that they’ll love me

Cause none of my honeys don’t even respect me

Who got the yayo? Show me them niggas

Bitch, I’ve been rapping since HOV was a dealer

There’s too many rappers that no one can hear ’em

And Diddy and Yeezy don’t notice a nigga

Don’t notice a nigga, tell me who next

Who got that Yayo? Who got that best?

Grandma gon’ kill me she find that I’m dealin’

But my time is limited who got the stretch?

250, 350, 550, yeah

I got some heat when they ride with me, yeah

I wanna see what they got for me

Nigga now who got the yayo? don’t lie to me, yeah

Don’t get it twisted I move and I ain’t lost a step

I don’t usually get played off the left

I got Hitlers like Adolf that hate on a nigga

Then take off and then its a pill at the [?]

And I’m cooking like Raekwon the Chef

Poppa told me don’t leave cake on the dresser

They playin’ not death

Pray on a downfall I hope I fall down

Then they all keep just smilin’ then there go my rep

What she gon’ say, I need this rap money move out the way

If I don’t get famous then who got the yay?

Who got the yay? Who got the yay?

Who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I need some cut when I’m using the scale

I don’t sell drugs, it’s not really my style

But I need a plan if this music’ll fail

So who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I know some hustlers I’m cool with in jail

I’ll be god damn if I work a real job

I need thousands of dollars the movement is real

So who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

Who got the, who got the

Who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

Who got the yayo? [x2]

Ship me some packages who got the mail

I’ll be god damned if my music’ll fail

So who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

Who got the yayo? Who got that coco

I don’t know shit about chopping no cholo

Heard you know niggas that cop for the low-low

Be careful them snitches call cops on the low-low

And I just be solo, I just be dolo

Pushing a hooptie, I’m riding a loso

Under the radar, can’t look like no target

Them niggas was talking but not anymore doe

Who got the yayo? Who got the crocket?

That Betty Crocker they using then cop it

Burying these niggas, put two in a coffin

I’m usually exhausted the truth is I’m driving

2000-and fucking-5 miles with no choppers around

If I make it from rapping then I can sit down

But the truth is this shit is not promised for now

So I guess I’ll just move in wich-y’all niggas

Now gimmie 250, 350, 550, yeah

I need some heat when they ride with me, yeah

I wanna see what they got for me nigga

Now who got the yayo? Don’t lie to me, yeah

Don’t get it twisted I move and I ain’t lost a step

I can spit like I ain’t lost a breath

Running this shit with the heat on and ain’t broke a sweat

What the fuck is you think you gon’ get

Put the cake on my back, bleeding my ink from this pen

In my heart I still think I’mma win

If I don’t then I guess I’ll just trap out the bando

Move keys a pianos and lay in the sand

What the fuck you gon’ say

I need the trap money move out the way

If I don’t get famous then who got the yay?

Who got the yay, nigga who got the yay?

Who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I need some cut when I’m using the scale

I don’t sell drugs, it’s not really my style

But I need a plan if this music’ll fail

So who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I know some hustlers I’m cool with in jail

And I’ll be god damn if I work a real job

I need thousands of dollars the movement is real

Nigga who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

Who got the, who got the

Who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

Ship me some packages who got the mail

So who got the yayo?

I don’t sell drugs, it’s not really my style

But I need a plan if this music’ll fail

So who got the yayo?

Who got the, who got the, who got the yayo?

Who got the yayo? [x2]

I don’t sell drugs, it’s not really my style

But I need a plan if this music’ll fa-

Who got the yayo?

I never wanted to sell any drugs

Pass the cocaina, cocaine or coquito

That power, perico that product is Deebo

Might need a lot of them kilos

I might need a pound just for me doe

Cause I just be stressin’

I got some problems I’m guessin

I’m crazy you probably think different

I’m high on a mission

Tomorrow ain’t promised

So this is just me whippin’ pies in the kitchen

The pastor keep preachin’ I think keep singing that gospel

Then I look straight through the bible

All of my teachers said rappin’ is easy

But being successful is harder than I knew

And I would just nod I said, “Well I’m gonna try”

She looked back at me and stared, “Do what you can”

I said, “Well what if I fail?” She said, “Just do it again”

Do what you fail, don’t let the devil inside you

Don’t let the ghetto deprive you

Pray everyday, but if you lose all of your faith

Then you must do what you got to

Then you must do what you got to

My nigga got get it, go take it go make it you business

Cause haters don’t listen, now who got the flavor

I’m missing, now who got the flavor said

Who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I need some cut when I’m using the scale

I don’t sell drugs, it’s not really my style

But I need a plan if this music’ll fail

So who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

I know some hustlers I’m cool with in jail

And I’ll be god damn if I work a real job

I need thousands of dollars the movement is real

Nigga who got the yayo? Who got the yayo?

Who got the, who got the, who got the yayo?

Who got the yayo?

Joyner Lucas I Don’t Die

[Joyner Lucas:]

Joyner, Joyner, Joyner, Joyner, Joyner

Woo, woo, woo, woo, woo!

Mind your motherfuckin’ business, ain’t nothin’ you gotta see (buck, buck, buck)

How you all up in my shit when you got more problems than me?

Yeah, I’m cool but you don’t wanna see that other side of me (yeah, yeah)

And my niggas mobbin’ deep, hoe, I’m a fuckin’ prodigy (buck, buck, buck)

I know, I know that you been envy, bitch, it ain’t that hard to see

Don’t you dare go fix your mouth to tell me that you proud of me

Ain’t no choice to me but loyalty still means a lot to me

Some niggas’ll gon’ chop my arm right off and still reach out to me

I know you probably want that

[Joyner Lucas & Chris Brown:]

You want that ambulance to pick me up and take me on that ride, yeah

Hoping that they don’t revive a nigga and bring me back to life

And you shot me down, shot me down, shot me down, shot me down, shot me down

That’s all right (buck, buck) I don’t die

[Joyner Lucas:]

B-b-bad to the bone, everybody wanna be so motherfuckin’ bad ’til they ass be alone

Now you back in the cold

And I’m laughin’ at every single fact that they don’t want me on half of these songs

It was that from the go, just a bunch of little spoilt fuckin’ bastards

Every single one ’em would laugh at my joke

Niggas pass the Patron, I think I’ma go and drink it until I pass out in the back of the Rover

Ménage on my mind (ayy)

I’ve been on my grind (woo)

Been through so much, sometimes think that God ain’t on my side (yeah)

I cut all my friends off then say y’all ain’t on my vibe

And it’s so much more to life than drinkin’, party all the time, woah (woo, woo)

This gon’ last a lifetime (lifetime), no more Mister Nice Guy (Nice Guy)

I text Jaden Smith, and told that nigga he a icon (icon)

Don’t get shit fucked up, just ’cause I ain’t got no ice on

Don’t mean I am not Sub-Zero, I should freeze you hoes at night time

I’m like, where the hell you been at?

I’ve been doin’ this since I was a kid and my grandma used to ask me where my head at (buck, buck, buck)

Always in trouble cause I was never learnin’ nothin’ except how to muscle my way into the game with no setbacks (yeah, yeah)

All that’s been sleepin’ on me, fuck it, where the bed at?

‘Cause I’ve been strugglin’, tryna be on top of them other niggas

Blind for me, but fuck it, doesn’t mean nothin’ if their music ain’t really cuttin’ it they can hit the gutter (buck, buck, buck)

One day y’all gon see me (see me)

I make shy look freaky (freaky)

I make dry look greasy (woo)

I make hard look easy (easy)

I remember way back when my momma took my TV, hoe

Now I’m all on TV hoe (woo)

Mind yo motherfuckin’ business, ain’t nothin’ you gotta see (buck, buck, buck)

How you all up in my shit when you got more problems than me? (Buck, buck, buck)

Yeah, I’m cool but you don’t wanna see that other side of me (yeah, yeah)

I don’t want to hear no sorrys, bitch, fuck your apology

I know, I know that you been envy, damn, it ain’t that hard to see

I don’t wanna get to know you, no please, don’t say hi to me

Ain’t no choice to me but loyalty still means a lot to me (buck, buck)

Some niggas’ll gon’ chop my arm right off and still reach out to me

I know you probably want that

[Joyner Lucas & Chris Brown:]

You want that ambulance to pick me up and take me on that ride, yeah

Hoping that they don’t revive a nigga and bring me back to life

And you shot me down, shot me down, shot me down, shot me down, shot me down

That’s all right (buck, buck) I don’t die

[Chris Brown:]

That’s why a nigga ride round with a weapon

Better that than me lyin’ on a stretcher

Gun shot, pow, pow, pow, applyin’ all the pressure

Potato on the chopper, shootin’ through the pillow, blood on the feathers (buck, buck, buck)

Rollin’ dice with ya life, all I do is roll 7’s (woo)

Eagle on my lap when I walk with the devil

Hit a bitch from the back like I don’t know better

Man, I swear to God you better talk to the reverend (buck, buck, buck)

Me, I’m on the weed, high, dehydrated

Her booty fuckin’ skin tight, Levi made it (yeah, yeah)

Yee-haw, yee-haw, put her in a stable

Keep my cards in my pocket, never put ’em on the table (woo)

Leave her bra on the floor, put my dick up on her naval

Do what I say, don’t give me no ultimatum

Ride around or die, get your life taken

Shit, already went half on a baby (buck, buck, buck, buck)

All these broke bitch ass niggas tryna tell a real nigga how to really fuckin’ get a bag (woo)

How you fuckin’ 25 with your first car?

I got 10, that’s why them niggas mad (hey)

Why you wanna hate on progress? (Woo)

Why you wanna keep me in the projects? (Jheeze)

Nigga, why you wanna eat off my check? (Hey)

That’s some weird ass shit you suspect (hey)

That’s a weird ass bitch don’t trust that (woo)

Shut the hell up, a nigga ain’t done yet (hey)

All these shots, are you niggas havin’ fun yet? (Buck, buck)

I’ma do it by the book so run that (hey)

Take ya bitch then I ride in to sunset (hey)

Layin’ on the Westside, hit Sunset (hey)

Backwoods, you can find me where the skunk at (hey)

Bullet with ya name on it if you want that

[Joyner Lucas & Chris Brown:]

You want that ambulance to pick me up and take me on that ride, yeah

Hoping that they don’t revive a nigga and bring me back to life

And you shot me down, shot me down, shot me down, shot me down, shot me down

That’s all right (buck, buck) I don’t die

Joyner Lucas That’s OK

Niggas feel me from Miami to Chicago

London to Morroco

Niggas claim they rich but I’m the brokest nigga I know

I just play the lotto

Gangstas wanna ride doe

With they guns out tryna plot like blat, blat, blat, blat, fuck your problems bitch

I’m plottin like a psycho

Bitches call me boppo

I like all my pussy with some good head on the side doe

Mercy, mercy on me, with no Murciélago

Bitches blow me like a trombone

I got shawties on the side doe that’s OK (that’s OK)

I get hoes and that’s OK (that’s OK, that’s OK)

Bitch I’m broke and that’s OK

(that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK, that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits)

Niggas feel me cuz my team is so colossal

London to Morroco

Soon as I get rich I’m off to mexico for tacos

She just wants some combo, but I ain’t got no time doe

I just wanna grab that gun and blat, blat, blat, blat blow my mind out

Bitch could trip and that’s OK

She ain’t shit and that’s OK (thats OK, that’s OK)

Oh bitch I’m different that’s OK

(that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK, that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK)

They say he stuntin hard for a nigga with no job ye?

When he get that car get that necklace get them broads ye?

He think he a star sign them posters up and movies shows and late nights at the studios

and fuckin all the groupie hoes (g-g-groupie hoes!)

Drinkin all the henny gettin faded huh

I dont drink no vodka but Moscato thats her favorite huh

Two Murciélago’s in my driveway with the baddest chicks

They callin me they daddy pimp and then I woke up mad as shit

Hopped up bout the bedroom turn my motherfucking swag on

Supercallaniggaristicesexpeallamagnum

Double cups and twisted think I’m trippin bitch n that’s OK

Pray for me if that’s the case someone go get pastor mase

They say he wild for a nigga with no burner ye?

Man he pretty down for someone we never heard of ye?

Then along came joyner his subordinates don’t get heard in ye

I usually don’t get turned up yeah

But this is [?]

Niggas feel me from Miami to Chicago

London to Morroco

Niggas claim they rich but I’m the brokest nigga I know

I just play the lotto

Gangstas wanna ride doe

With they guns out tryna plot like blat, blat, blat, blat, fuck your problems bitch

I’m plottin like a psycho

Bitches call me boppo

I like all my pussy with some good head on the side doe

Mercy, mercy on me, with no Murciélago

Bitches blow me like a trombone

I got shawties on the side doe that’s OK (that’s OK)

I get hoes and that’s OK (that’s OK, that’s OK)

Bitch I’m broke and that’s OK

(that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK, that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits)

Niggas feel me cuz my team is so colossal

London to Morroco

Soon as I get rich I’m off to mexico for tacos

She just wants some combo, but I ain’t got no time doe

I just wanna grab that gun and blat, blat, blat, blat blow my mind out

Bitch could trip and that’s OK

She ain’t shit and that’s OK (that’s OK, that’s OK)

Oh bitch I’m different that’s OK

(that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK, that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK)

They say he pretty fly for a nigga that stay single eh?

All my bitches whack now I’m back on christian mingle eh

Puffin on them cancer sticks I know it turn you off n shit

But all I do is stress and I can’t get the devil offa me (o-offa me)

Stomping out the haters with no tims on

All my insta crushes wanna keep me in the friend zone

Now it’s back to hustlin got no cable or no water

So I’m selling all the cars I stole I might just sell some bars I wrote

I’m from outer space different species of reptilian

Supercallaniggaristicesexpeallalien

Flying through the atmosphere, cruising on you that’s OK

Pour some liquor back and pray for all the soldiers passed away

They say he made it for a nigga that ain’t stopping ye?

Made it out the hood ended right back in the projects ye?

Wish a nigga would try to get me then I’m plotting

Yeah my [?] with flawless stones and diamonds yeah

Niggas feel me from Miami to Chicago

London to Morroco

Niggas claim they rich but I’m the brokest nigga I know

I just play the lotto

Gangstas wanna ride doe

With they guns out tryna plot like blat, blat, blat, blat, fuck your problems bitch

I’m plottin like a psycho

Bitches call me boppo

I like all my pussy with some good head on the side doe

Mercy, mercy on me, with no Murciélago

Bitches blow me like a trombone

I got shawties on the side doe that’s OK (that’s OK)

I get hoes and that’s OK (that’s OK, that’s OK)

Bitch I’m broke and that’s OK

(that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK, that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits)

Niggas feel me cuz my team is so colossal

London to Morroco

Soon as I get rich I’m off to mexico for tacos

She just wants some combo, but I ain’t got no time doe

I just wanna grab that gun and blat, blat, blat, blat blow my mind out

Bitch could trip and that’s OK

She ain’t shit and that’s OK (that’s OK, that’s OK)

Oh bitch I’m different that’s OK

(that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK, that’s OK, that’s OK, that shits, that shits, that’s OK)

Joyner Lucas Tapdance

This that shit that’ll make me tap dance

All over your crib, then backhand

Both you and your bitch, then crash land

On my alien ship, then stack bands

I get it in quick, I’m laughing

At you and your clique, what happened

Nigga, look what you did, I’m asking

Bitch, I’m a half-black assassin

Better grab your gats and blast them

Ain’t none of y’all bastards have hands

Ain’t none of y’all cats are scratching

And y’all move like Action Jackson

And I’m more like Captain Savage

With no black on black [?] madness

Bitch, y’all back on crack like crackheads

With no platinum plaques or passion

But, nigga, fuck all that, I’m a pilot

High up all over your conscience

And drive up all over your ‘partments

And pile up all over your closet

I wind up all over your side bitch

Time’s up, could’ve been in that clock

With my luck, I’ll never be on that hot list

And I never had love for no dry snitch

Okay, I grew up in the projects

You come around and everyone in your pockets

You never gonna really know who they watching

Take everything and they gon’ leave with your wallet

I bet you never gon’ believe that we poppin’

Take a nigga [?] when they starving

You never knew that I’d be in their Top 10

Like, God damn

Hol’ up

This that shit that’ll make me tap dance

All over your crib, then backhand

Both you and your bitch, then crash land

On my alien ship, then stack bands

I get it in quick, I’m laughing

At you and your clique, what happened

Yo, look what you did, I’m asking

Bitch, I’m a half-black assassin

Let’s keep it G like “Who knew?”

I’m a get that love and poom-poom

That sucky-sucky, wushu

That gushy-gushy, choo-choo

When I come deep, if I choose to

‘Cause I love beef, and you fufu

Put that lunch meat in my soup, too

Put your front teeth in my Fruit Loops

And I told them, “This that new-new”

And all your tracks is boo-boo

Yeah, this that platinum whoo-whoo

We don’t do platinum FUBU

Better call back-up and move, too

Move soon, or niggas gon move you

Who you? Them dudes is cuckoo

Cocoa Puffs and some fruit juice

I got Netflix and Hulu

Hit up your ex-bitch on OoVoo

Tell her get dressed and then move through

Then I get naked as [?]

Record that shit on Google

Upload that shit to YouTube

After I send it to her, I send that shit to you, too

Yeah, this that shit that’ll make me tap dance

All over your crib, then backhand

Both you and your bitch, then crash land

On my alien ship, then stack bands

I get it in quick, I’m laughing

At you and your clique, what happened

Yo, look what you did, I’m asking

Bitch, I’m a half-black assassin

Better grab your gats and blast them

Ain’t none of y’all bastards have hands

Ain’t none of y’all cats are scratching

And y’all move like Action Jackson

But I’m more like Captain Savage

With no black on black [?] madness

Bitch, y’all back on crack like crackheads

Got no platinum plaques or passion

Fuck that shit, I’m a go hard

I’m a go hard, like I’m a go raw

Then we gon see

I told Chi-Money put your money on me

I told Boi-1da, “I wonder how long it’ll take for these rap niggas [?]

I’m a tell y’all like niggas told me

“Cash rules everything amongst everything, but what’s everything with no peace?”

Fuck the police, hands up in your face

I’m an ice cube with a N.W.A

I don’t like you, and I will fuck up your day

And I heard shit gets real up in L.A

I just hope I make it home by five

Cross my heart, bitch, I hope y’all die

And y’all don’t see shit through both my eyes

Oh, my God, this that shit that’ll make me tap dance

All over your crib, then backhand

Both you and your bitch, then crash land

On my alien ship, then stack bands

I get it in quick, I’m laughing

At you…

And you…

And you…

Joyner Lucas Jumanji

[Joyner Lucas:]

Stomping all up in Iraq

Hop up all up in a wack

Elephants a couple lions

And the zebras put the heater’s in your face

And leave you with the monkeys

A banana clip, it’s funny

Watch em pull apart your little face

And I’ve been in the jungle with the fucking apes

Tell em what i slay

Beast in a cage

Nigga this is what you call Jumanji

Ain’t no new Bugatti’s

Just a deuce deuce shotty

Big enough to make Bruce Bruce potty

Turnin’ Bruce Jenner to a new hobby

I ain’t cool with nobody

I don’t trust a motherfucking soul nigga

You can let the grim reaper know nigga

Put it on my tombstone when I die here

Take a step inside of my world

27 years still ain’t comfortable enough to call a bitch my girl

You are now looking at a monster

85 teeth, 39 deep, 26 piece

Run and light a fucking military with a M-16

Influenced by George Bush

Burn your whole city with a blowtorch

Then I ride out in your tour bus

And I hop out in a Porsche truck

Like blah

Black tie swagger

Black pride nigga

Black lives matter

Black eye shadow

Black nine barrel

Bang bang move back my nigga

Why lie?

Every night I pray to my god

I don’t gotta wait to blah blah

And I never gave 2 caca’s

I’m a heavyweight new prime time

In an MMA fight

With a Kimbo slice to for neck

Then I put my fucking life through the script

It’s a movie put my life in the shit

Pack a mag and we could get it crackalackin

Back when I was tryna make a habit happen

Nothing i been nothing i been tryna rap

And if the doesn’t happen I’ma stack it

Till I turn a packet into another packet

Till I stack it up big enough to cap a captian

To put a fucking bomb inside it

And blow flames on a fire

Be the dragon

Bin laden ain’t got shit on me

I don’t think you understand

You are really looking at the devil nigga

I don’t think you wanna dance

Meet me in the clouds and the smoke nigga

I hope nigga you ain’t never stood a chance

You ain’t never you ain’t never

Could’ve been should’ve been would’ve been

Joyner Lucas poppin all up in your face looking ass

Poppin all up in the bass

Elephants, a couple lions

And the cheetas put the heater’s in your face

And leave you with the monkeys

A banana clip, it’s funny

Watch em pull apart your little face

And I’ve been in the jungle with the fucking apes

Hunter wanna slay beasts in the cage

Nigga this is what you call Jumanji

Me and my bitch up against y’all

So fuck you and your in-laws

Never grew up on Crenshaw

But I grew up on menthols

And I smoke till my fucking lungs squeeze

And I choke till my fucking tongue bleed

In the carpet of yo mom’s crib

Till your tubs leaks on them love seats

And this must be what it feels like

When you full force and I’m dead right

And you dead wrong and I’m here like

But my hands wrapped around his like

Goddamn

Black tie swagger

Black pride nigga

Black lives matter

Black eye shadow

Black nine barrel

Bang bang move back my nigga

This is more than a board game

With Jumanji with a little more fame

The gorillas talking like a torpedo finna knock up on ya fucking door frame

Not a problem you was just a floor stain

At the bottom of the ground i’m walking on

I betcha momma teach you not to talk a lot

I betcha ya dog’ll teach you not to bark a lot

A lot niggas gotta get it

I’ve been tryna get it

I’ma tell you bout it if you gotta minute

Got a minute?

Ayo you gotta minute my nigga?

Yo

Ayo you got a minute?

Aight

Back when Iverson was in his prime

I was writing

I ain’t wanna get a job

I was dream chasing

I was gettin mine

You was sleeping

I was tryna get a line

Nigga woo

[Busta Rhymes:]

Ayo Joyner

Let me show you how to keep the dice rolling

When you rolling that dice on that Jumanji game my nigga

Get em!

If you try stopping us

I’ll turn into a fucking rhinoceros

And put a dick inside of your esophagus

And poppin shit

And mopping up a nigga

Cock another glocka

Blocka! Blocka! Blocka!

We the bunch of niggas down from opa locka

Put the biggest cock up all up in your momma

When I fall

I’ll beat you like your father

Like it’s no tomorrow

Bitch you wanna swallow

Holla holla holla holla

Get em!

If you try stopping us

I’ll turn into a fucking rhinoceros

And put a dick inside of your esophagus

And poppin shit

And mopping up a nigga

Cock another glocka

Cock another glocka

Blocka! Blocka! Blocka!

We a bunch of niggas down from opa locka

Put the biggest cock up all up in your momma

I’mma I’mma I’m a nigga

Got a lot of dollar

Thats gon’ make a nigga disappear like voila voila

Fuck around if you want!

Lord have mercy