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lirik lagu automatic – myaap

[intro]
[?]
i don’t want yo n*gga, but i want yo friend
you know i go crazy, you know i go fed
get on yo knees, n*gga, and give me head
baow
baow, baow, baow (on my daddy)
get on yo knees, n*gga, and give me head

[verse 1]
n*gga, f*ck a automatic, this a .50
i’mma hit a b*tch up with the switchy
put it on that n*gga once, now he miss me
get rich or die trying, like i’m 50
b*tch i’m from the mil’, we get litty in the city
smoking out the pack, smoking on that sticky
if you lookin’ for a boss b*tch, get with me
n*ggas be tellin’, i should call they ass mickey
everywhere i go, you know i gotta [?] cripsy
baow, get in mode, shake yo hips, hit that heel toe
point to the air, left, right, then you hit the flo’
baow, then you hit the flo’
i got fifty, i got blues, i’m up hеlla racks
if i ever said i loved you, that was f*ckin’ cap
back, back, gеt in mode, throw that sh*t back
back, back, like, yeah, make that sh*t clap
fat cat back, all i want is the rackies
from the mil’ where we say, “on my daddy”
i’m a baddie, you know i got a fatty
pullin’ up quick, just send me the addy
i won’t ever let a broke n*gga have me
i ain’t stoppin’ ’till i win me a grammy
b*tch mad ’cause her n*gga chose me
the n*gga know i’m richer, that n*gga know i’m p
gotta pay a fee, ain’t sh*t in this world free
competin’ wit’ n0body, b*tch, it’s me versus me
i’m who these n*ggas want, i’m who these b*tches wanna be
up on the net, but in person, b*tches cheap
b*tch, hit that sh*t, hit that sh*t to this beat
baow, get in mode, [?], you betta eat
choppa get to bussin’ off the b*tch off her feet
cookin’ straight fire, so you know i’m serving heat
[chorus]
[?]
i don’t want yo n*gga, but i want yo friend
you know i go crazy, you know i go fed
get on yo knees, n*gga, and give me head

[verse 2]
all my b*tches got a bag, [?]
thought this was the end? this only the beginning
on these b*tches necks as long as i’m living
if you broke and sittin’ on yo ass, i ain’t interferin’
i be outside everyday, bet’ not ever catch you slippin’
my shooters gon’ play, some blood, some crippin’
thought you was finna hit it, then you must be trippin’
purped out, b*tches always in my f*ckin’ business
spend that n*gga bag, make that n*gga go delirious
i could never ever take a broke n*gga serious
my flow is the illest, you know i’m the realest
i won’t stop, i won’t quit
make hits after hits b*tch
he gon’ choose me everytime ’cause i’m so lit
she gon’ throw that sh*t back, she gon’ do a trick
she gon’ do a split on it, gon’ [?]
[?] and blow a bag ’cause i’m so rich
yeah, i see you havin’ money, but is you spendin’ it?
no, i can’t make this sh*t clap, if you ain’t throwin’ cash
used to be f*cked up with no money, now, i’m on track
i don’t ever trip on what i spend, ’cause i’mma make it back
you can’t come around here lackin’, get yo’ sh*t whacked
money ain’t sh*t, baby, i got big racks
n*ggas say i’m bad, i look like a snack
did it on my own with no help, that’s a fact
ask yo b*tch, she might know
b*tch, i’m myaap
all his b*tches basic and i’m bad, i’m a real piece
time to wake these b*tches up, they [?]
i’mma make it far with this sh*t, y’all gon’ feel me
[chorus]
[?]
i don’t want yo n*gga, but i want yo friend
you know i go crazy, you know i go fed
get on yo knees, n*gga, and give me head

- myaap

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