lirik lagu black jesus – lil yachty
[intro]
(oh lord, jetson made another one)
[verse 1]
pull out them racks on a n*gga, he’s so funny
he talk the most sh*t, but got no money
tough on the ’net, but in person, a new gandhi
stand on my racks and i’m mo bambi
i mean mo bamba, anklets a new honda
i need threes with titi and with la’shonda
i get right, it’s on sight for you newcomers
i got two solid fists for you mouth*runners
with the gang out in public, we ho hunters
kick that b*tch out the spot like a team punter
think it’s time i run up me a bugatti
got this b*tch ridin’ d*ck like a ducati
bought an ap plain jane out in dubai
actin’ out for attention, the new guy
got another lawsuit, need a new tie
know some n*ggas switched up, turned ifá
know some n*ggas out west bangin’ treetop
made that b*tch give me head ’til her knees pop
switchin’ sides on the gang, tryna ease out
catch you slippin’, we knockin’ your t**th out
tryna come down my block, need to reroute
tryna see all that sh*t that you talk ’bout
know it’s cap in your rap, you ain’t gotta lie
in la with zack bia, a nice guy
in la with zack bia at papis
i’m in houston ho huntin’ with tati
i just had me a smooth little ten piece
run it up
stick on my back like i’m huntin’ up
yeah, if i let my dogs loose, they gon’ run amuck
quick to pull up with them 30s tucked
[chorus]
run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin’ tall
hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul
i got big guap, big k!llers, big pieces
she wan’ f*ck the gang, told that b*tch to write a thesis
pull up all white, lookin’ like i’m black jesus
and my new crib fancy like the saint regis
n*ggas sweet as sh*t, turn ’em to a reese’s pieces
diamonds shinin’ so d*mn bright, give a n*gga seizures
[verse 2]
nothin’ make me more happy than backends
i’m straight to no signal, them racks in
these new n*ggas’ music is trashcan
he can’t feed his fans, so they fastin’
he told ’em, “let’s all go muslim”
that b*tch n*gga ain’t out hustlin’
i said take a sip, why you guzzlin’?
give me my d*mn cup back, n*gga
i’m too rich to be out here tusslin’
buddy just paid a rack for some ‘tussin
hope he sick, ’cause that’s all that it’s good for
i wish that my big brother did more
i pray that my lil’ sister live long
paint the ‘rari all yellow like armstrong
got a stock with a stick, it’s an arm long
wow
heard they said i went broke, boy, was they wrong
i just cashed in a check, it’s a phone number
b*tch, your ass on the porch like the door number
we gon’ track your ass down like lojack
why they playin’ with me? i need more racks
to the money, i’m runnin’ up four flat
this sh*t right here gon’ need four plaques
[chorus]
run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin’ tall
hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul
i got big guap, big k!llers, big pieces
she wan’ f*ck the gang, told that b*tch to write a thesis
pull up all white, lookin’ like i’m black jesus
and my new crib fancy like the saint regis
n*ggas sweet as sh*t, turn ’em to a reese’s pieces
diamonds shinin’ so d*mn bright, give a n*gga seizures
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