A$AP Nast - Gotham City lyrics

[Hook: A$AP Ferg] Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac Sit him down, in the trap, four pound for the strap Big guns go BRAP! A$AP, where it's at Real n***as all black, sip lean so relax [Verse 1: A$AP Ferg] Young Trap Lord, dime of the purp Ride or die boy, n***a get murked Pull a nine boy, play with the dirt Laying on who sleep in the earth She feel on my clothes, she lifting her skirt She say she love coke, she sniffin the work Semi-auto Tec, guns go flur Bang, bang-bang and another one squirt Givenchy my body, Ksubi my colleagues Versace, my eyelids, but it Yves Saint-Laurent me Twelvyy in Huraches, and Margiela on Rocky Yohji Yamamoto for Ty Nast and Ty Beats f** b**hes that's on me, wack b**hes move kindly Last n***as of a dying breed, yeah me, myself, and Irene n***as hear them sirens when that four-fif' and that nine squeeze China b**h sip sake, while I chop that a** with that Tommy [Hook: A$AP Ferg] Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac Sit him down, in the trap, four pound for the strap Big guns go BRAP! A$AP, where it's at Real n***as all black, sip lean so relax [Verse 2: A$AP Twelvyy] We all want that Meech money, gold grill make ya speak funny My eyes open cause the streets hungry A New Jack f**in' Gee money n***as dead over sneak money, sh** ain't sweet, honey The streets love me, white Airs and a peach rugby I go hard cause them n***as thought the least of me I'm in the hell yeah that b**h made a beast of me Hold your crib, while your b**h make a feast of me I'm a greedy n***a stuffin' my face Gettin' money, f**in' b**hes, yeah, them stuck in my ways 'bout to turn 23 but I give zero f**s n***as wanna sign me, tell them n***as zero up, wa**up [Hook: A$AP Ferg] Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac Sit him down, in the trap, four pound for the strap Big guns go BRAP! A$AP, where it's at Real n***as all black, sip lean so relax [Verse 3: A$AP Nast] It's a pistol poppin' business n***a mind ya own Expensive taste in guns, shorty's coppin' chrome I'm in love with a chopper dog, hit 'em, get 'em, split 'em Turn a f** n***a into a bowl of pasta dog, I'm not at all A n***a to be f**ed with, shorty got the hammer, n***as can't touch this Moms got the biscuit, dad own a musket, gone off a substance Middle finger up to the b**h who would f** sh** Living in a world where young n***as run sh** All over something, but it's really nothing Go on with the f** sh**, young n***as run this all [Hook: A$AP Ferg] Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac Sit him down, in the trap, four pound for the strap Big guns go BRAP! A$AP, where it's at Real n***as all black, sip lean so relax