Ya’ll Dead Wrong Songtext
von Amil
Ya’ll Dead Wrong Songtext
Uh
Uh-uh, uh, uh
Yo
La, la-la, la-la
Yeah, yeah, la, la-la, la-la
Amil-al-lor, fly indeed
Got every chick, man, eyeing me
Think you can crush this? Try and see
It′s the Major Coin, I-N-C
And I'm too hot to just be warm
I start fire alarm from dusk to dawn
Catch me with the diamond clusters on
And Gucci leather sandals with the mustard thong
Model mommy, body like a cola bottle mommy
Mulatto up in the Gallardo mommy
One in a million, killing ′em
Might have to change my name to Billion
Voice so ill, y'all wanna speak my shit
Joints so hot, y'all wanna leak my shit
Haters sneak peak my shit
But still I be the only one to freak this shit
Y′all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y'all got nothing on this
Y′all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y'all just fronting on this
Rock, please don′t wanna rap on the same song as me
You need a verse, ma? It's on me
See, all this publishing belong to me
Just imagine how the second album gonna be
Non-stop party hopping
Rock-rock-rocks stay deep on rocking
And everything I spit be popping
Anything Amil-lion want, she copping
Woo, woo, ain′t nothing changed
And I play more ballers than a buck is game
Like wrist, a dream watch, plus the chain
Will I ever be broke? What's my name? (Baby doll, nigga)
Have you ever seen a chick like this? (Uh-uh)
Ever heard one spit like this? (Uh-uh)
I dead 'em all, put my word on that
All money is legal when I murder tracks
Y′all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y'all got nothing on this
Y′all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y'all just fronting on this
Cute as a button, can′t tell this bitch nothing
Ghetto bad, whole click bubbling
Diana Ross, the boss of the Roc
Shit, you know me, I gots the floss at the spot
With a dime-ass nigga who be tossing knots
Every bitch hating 'cause I′m scalding hot
It can't be 'cause I got baguettes on
′Cause niggas love this bitch even with sweats on
I′m the A-M-I-L-I-on
Strictly be on that shit, Major Coin's beyond
I got joints making competition wanna drop dead
I got joints making you bop your head
I got joints that′ll have your eyes bloodshot red
Fuck the dough, I want my props instead
Stay real with it, might pack steel with it
You can hate, but you still gotta deal with it
Y'all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y'all got nothing on this
Y′all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y'all just fronting on this
Y'all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y′all got nothing on this
Y'all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y′all just fronting on this
La, la-la, la-la
Uh
La, la-la, la-la-la
Uh
What?
Uh-uh, uh, uh
Yo
La, la-la, la-la
Yeah, yeah, la, la-la, la-la
Amil-al-lor, fly indeed
Got every chick, man, eyeing me
Think you can crush this? Try and see
It′s the Major Coin, I-N-C
And I'm too hot to just be warm
I start fire alarm from dusk to dawn
Catch me with the diamond clusters on
And Gucci leather sandals with the mustard thong
Model mommy, body like a cola bottle mommy
Mulatto up in the Gallardo mommy
One in a million, killing ′em
Might have to change my name to Billion
Voice so ill, y'all wanna speak my shit
Joints so hot, y'all wanna leak my shit
Haters sneak peak my shit
But still I be the only one to freak this shit
Y′all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y'all got nothing on this
Y′all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y'all just fronting on this
Rock, please don′t wanna rap on the same song as me
You need a verse, ma? It's on me
See, all this publishing belong to me
Just imagine how the second album gonna be
Non-stop party hopping
Rock-rock-rocks stay deep on rocking
And everything I spit be popping
Anything Amil-lion want, she copping
Woo, woo, ain′t nothing changed
And I play more ballers than a buck is game
Like wrist, a dream watch, plus the chain
Will I ever be broke? What's my name? (Baby doll, nigga)
Have you ever seen a chick like this? (Uh-uh)
Ever heard one spit like this? (Uh-uh)
I dead 'em all, put my word on that
All money is legal when I murder tracks
Y′all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y'all got nothing on this
Y′all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y'all just fronting on this
Cute as a button, can′t tell this bitch nothing
Ghetto bad, whole click bubbling
Diana Ross, the boss of the Roc
Shit, you know me, I gots the floss at the spot
With a dime-ass nigga who be tossing knots
Every bitch hating 'cause I′m scalding hot
It can't be 'cause I got baguettes on
′Cause niggas love this bitch even with sweats on
I′m the A-M-I-L-I-on
Strictly be on that shit, Major Coin's beyond
I got joints making competition wanna drop dead
I got joints making you bop your head
I got joints that′ll have your eyes bloodshot red
Fuck the dough, I want my props instead
Stay real with it, might pack steel with it
You can hate, but you still gotta deal with it
Y'all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y'all got nothing on this
Y′all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y'all just fronting on this
Y'all dead wrong
If you think you fucking with this
And y′all know
That y′all got nothing on this
Y'all want that
Or you wanting something like this
Those who hate
Yeah, y′all just fronting on this
La, la-la, la-la
Uh
La, la-la, la-la-la
Uh
What?
Writer(s): Dana Stinson, Amil Whitehead Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
