Mir Fontane – Stoop Kids Lyrics (feat. Fetty Wap)

Yeah [x6]
Aye! Ooh! Aye! Aye!

[Chorus x2]
I need a big ole’ Bentley coupe
Cup to hold my juice
I need a ratchet lil’ boo
To keep the Nina in her boot
Where I’m from, all the stoop kids
Afraid to leave the stoop
Where I’m from, all the stoop kids
Afraid to leave the stoop

[Verse 1: Fetty Wap]
Where I’m from, off the 12, nigga ((ugh))
Buncha real niggas ((ugh))
If you trap, make it stack
Break a scale, nigga ((ugh))
Grab yo strap, double back
Grab the shells, nigga ((ugh))
Never tell, nigga ((ugh))
f**k the jail, nigga ((ugh))
Praying for my homies, did the race
Did the race, yeah
Praying that my homies beat they case
Beat they case, yeah
Make me put this .40 in his face
In his face, yeah
.40 put a nigga in his place
In his place, yeah

[[Chorus]]

[Verse 2: Mir Fontane]
I got money in the bank
Shawty what you drink
All this gold all on my body
Like I’m sha-Shabba Ranks
I been ballin’ for a minute
I go hard up in the paint
Throw my jewelry in the rain
And watch it dance for Lil Saint
Niggas sing like Eddie Kane
Need mo’ money, Damon Wayans
I’m a child of Lil Wayne
That’s why the flow be so insane
Where I’m from, they be drillin’ shit
Freddy Krueger, killin’ shit
Only left the hood was in them cuffs
Or on permission slips
Chillin’ like a villain, bitch
Trap house had no ceilings, bitch
Yo bitch gimme brain
Gimme brain like arithmetics
Big ole’ Bentley coupe
For all my niggas on the stoop
Shooting right up at ya boots
And make you chicken noodle soup

[[Chorus]]

Vince Staples – Yeah Right Lyrics

VINCE STAPLES
Yeah Right Lyrics

Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right

(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah)

Is your house big? Is your car nice?
Is your girl fine? f**k her all night
Is you well paid? Are your shows packed?
If your song played, would they know that?
How the thug life? How the love life?
How the workload? Is your buzz right?
Do the trap jump? Is the club right?
Got your head right? Boy, yeah right

Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah)

Pretty women wanna slit the wrist
Pretty women wanna be a rich man’s bitch
Pretty women want a couple kids
Pretty women want a new ass, new lips
Pretty women wanna push a Benz
Come correct and she won’t let you in
Thumbin’ through the checks, she gets it in
Diamonds on your neck, is them pretend?

Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah)

Got an enemy that changes dependin’ what direction
You’re facin’
Got an enemy that tells you off, blockin’ what’s efficient
You’re placed in
You pretend to get a better idea about the lifestyle
You’re chasin’
Keep pretendin’ that you real
Until every selfie is erased

Pop ’til it’s fakin’
Pop ’til the wrist pop
Pop ’til he shakin’
Pop like four on the floor been in rotation
No allegation
Popular demand, I understand my name is only for conversation
New York nigga be like “deadass”
L.A. nigga be like “on the dead homies”
I was off the porch like Fed-Ex
211, got bread on me
K-Dot twilight the zeitgeist
Roll like fried rice and tempura shrimp
Temporary pimp, nah, don’t remember them
Just canary yellow gem, jumping out the f**kin’ gym
Swang like new Dana Dane, I ride dirty
Paid like two Damon Wayans, retire early
Fade like shadows, corrallin’ the cattle
A bitches decision for you, is narrow
Collision, the money, and fame, the pharaoh
The physic, the chemist, the lame
Collateral for Kendrick whenever exchange
Compatible for riches with more to gain
A sad nigga? Yeah right
I don’t fair fight but I bear fight
Lookin’ for my next roadkill for the headlight
Hangin’ though my last four kills for the highlights
My life, high life, high five, bye, bye

Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right)
Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right
(Boy yeah)

DRAKE – Skepta Interlude lyrics

It’s a madness!
Check my account, it’s a madness (Mmm)
Block that account, it’s a catfish (Yeah)
Block that account, it’s a catfish (Dubplate special)
Check my account, that’s a madness
Check my account, that’s a madness (OVO, BBK)
Block that account, that’s a catfish
Block that account, that’s a catfish

You don’t know me, you better get to know me
Stand up tall, right next to Kobe
A young G, I had the weapon on me
Slice up work like pepperoni
The police still arrest the homies
No statement, no testimony
Spit in your face with extra bogey
It’s my time, I don’t flex a Rollie
On cloud 9, a man’s extra cosy
I might switch it up and direct a movie
Pussyholes tried to execute me
Died and came back as Fela Kuti
Don’t phone me, send a text to Julie
OVO, man’s so unruly
South by, ride out, no Suzuki
Got the Austin Powers, a man’s extra groovy
Front row, jacket tailor-made
Crackhead swag with the razor blade
Red umbrella when I make it rain
My whole team winning, we don’t play your game
Sound like me but they ain’t the same
See them online tryna fake the fame
They wanna bust jokes, they think I’m Damon Wayans

It’s a madness
Check my account, it’s a madness (More Life)
Block that account, it’s a catfish
Block that account, it’s a catfish (OVO, BBK)
Check my account, that’s a madness (dubplate)
Check my account, that’s a madness (street team)
Block that account, that’s a catfish
Block that account, that’s a catfish

They’re nothing like me, I’m a fucking villain
Go against me, that’s a tough decision
Police wish I was stuck in prison
Fish eye lens on my tunnel vision
Real life greaze when I touch the riddim
Still the same guy when I touched a million
Record labels wanted us to listen
But it’s greatness only for the love of Britain
I say it how it is and no fucks are given
So don’t forget to remember me
Especially all my enemies
Keep your eyes on me with your jealousy
The most solid gang that you will ever see
Just came back from the embassy
Check my crime sheet, check my legacy
And now I’m back on tour, so what you telling me?
Taliban, Halloween
Pull up in the whip with the gasoline
Yeah, that’s that boy from the magazine
Bust my dance at the cash machine
Make her back it up, bounce on my trampoline
Like Martin Luther, man, I had a dream
Now it’s my world, you can have the scene

It’s a madness
Check my account, it’s a madness
Block that account, it’s a catfish
Block that account, it’s a catfish
Check my account, that’s a madness
Check my account, that’s a madness
Block that account, that’s a catfish
Block that account, that’s a catfish

Audio Push – Wicked (My Turn 3 Album)

[Verse 1: Oktane]
It’s on, left me here on my own
So I guess I’m back in my zone
Gotta put on there for my home
No contact if you doubt it, too many contacts in my phone
Rap circles around your favorite rappers off the top of my dome
New flows, new flows I need Pesos
Two shows back-to-back, then studio
So no time for no moody hoes
That shit lame, still the same
Damon Wayans, Major Payne
On the game, roll a [plane?] and then smoke the whole thang, whoa

[Verse 2: Price]
Hmm, look at what we got here
High as fuck in the Uber [?], need to tell you how I got here
You think my gloves got [Paris?] powder, I’m beatin’ em it’s not fair
Fuck her face ’till she cryin’, call that shit top tears
She only fuck with top-tier and that’s probably why you not here
The fake shit stops here
The homies said whenever it’s time to hop in the ride
And slide you got scared
So miss me with all them Internet threats
Don’t talk to me if you ain’t been in a jet
And I hate your nerds more than a cigarette breath
Can be lost with the loud talk
Ain’t no money in her [route?], brah
H-A, yeah times 2, pointin’ at you like "ha ha"
Bank account going gaga
A nigga still eat Popeye’s
Overdose on peroxide if I ain’t in your fucking top five
Call me daddy when we in the streets
But in the sheets, baby, call me Price
Whoopy-whoop, bleepty-bleep means if I don’t answer, don’t call me twice
Refuse to gain the world and lose my soul for all the hype
I’m Bob Marley, like
Get in tune with the Gotti [?]
And that’s on my life, we gon’ all be right
Wicked, wicked, wicked, wicked
Like a check stub, I gotta rip it
Connected like a studio equipment
Used to make plays off the cricket
Now they make way for my entrance
Got a V8 in the engine
You at home V8-sippin’
Talk ’bout healthy livin’ shit
I need 2 millions for starters
Yours, not a real artist
I’m finna go nuts, George Washington Carver
Got the logo on the bomber, rock this shit like armor
No words for your honor, R.I.P. Eric Garner, yeah
Wrist, wicked
Clique, wicked
My city, wicked
[?], wicked
I’m vibin’, wicked
So icy, wicked
That’s wifey, wicked
Don’t like me, wicked

[Outro: Oktane]
I was gon’ rap again but like, this nigga just killed that shit
So like, next one