Yams Day

Stick 'em up, stick 'em up, suck a nigga, give it up
.38 to your dome, drop it off, give me some
Step to a real nigga, pistol grips all you know (ayy, ayy)
I'm doggin' you bitches and you niggas (yo, yo)
Yo, yo

I need a hundred a show when I'm back on the road
We gon' run it and grind it, it's really no biggie
The blickie and Rickie, this fit me, I'm really the bitty
I bust up a bag and I multiply 50
I wanted a Jag', but I rather the Bentley
I know 'bout the tax, I'ma tax for the kidney
I'm comin' right back, I'll be back in a jiffy

Kick in the dirt and I'm out of the mud
Land this suburban, I'm swervin' the fuzz
Back of the back and I'm stacking it up
My pack in the back, got a strap in the tuck (strap in the tuck)
Propane, go fangs, lo mein, cocaine
Dope fiends, gold chains, soul trains, road rage
Oh, wait, woah, wait

Fresh up out the grave, bet that's I that you see
Bludgeon out your brain, it's your eyes that deceive you
I don't see no evil, I know evil from my ears that I hear from my parents upstairs
Say the prayers to the man upstairs, yeah (yeah)

It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this every day (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, I got roofied then I lay (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this every day (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, she a cutie with the braids (yeah)

Flaric era, give her chara
Baby Jesus, Holy major in the cup of churro
I hooked the cable, it was illegal
When we young, we had a couple channels (hey)
Rusty pliers just to turn the channels
Antennas and a couple scanners (hey)
Bandanas with the hammers (ooh-ooh, yeah)
G-fool boys and a couple scammers

Bam pop a drop a cannon like a spanner
A toolbox with a couple hammers
Hold hammers like I hold bananas
Cozy boy like I'm ho and nana
Hold your phone up when I'm going ham
They on my hand, or they holdin' planners
Wrap your body in a clothing hanger, like a old banana, yeah

Fresh up out the grave, bet that's I that you see
Bludgeon out your brain, it's your eyes that deceive you
I don't see no evil, I know evil from my ears that I hear from my parents upstairs
Say the prayers to the man upstairs, yeah

Major city, I touchdown
So many ones, gotta order some bricks (what?)
Coppin' the P's from the plug
After we do business, we do a handshake, uh
Rolly in the sky like a minks
Paris, I'm ballin', I'm eatin' on grapes (ballin')
I had to go straight to the bank
So much money, I ran out of space (ran out of space)

Versace my baller, my fork
Jovish slur, I'm going to court (what?)
Vacation, sipping that lean on resort (uh)
She want a baby (uh)
Dealership, I copped the Audi off the floor (vroom)
Halo, now that boy trip with the Lord (boom)
Lambo', I had to lift up my door
Lambo', I had to lift up my door

It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this every day (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, I got roofied then I lay (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, we gon' do this every day (yeah)
It's a gangsta party, she a cutie with the braids (yeah)

Stick 'em up, stick 'em up, suck a nigga, give it up (yeah)
.38 to your dome, drop it off, give me some (yeah)
Step to a real nigga, pistol grips all you know (yeah)
I'm doggin' you bitches and you niggas (yeah)



Credits
Writer(s): Composer Author Unknown, Jamel Da'shawn Phillips
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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