Big Yavo - Ask The Promoters

Gang
No, we ain't tucking no chain no where (Yeah)
(Ayy, let that shit ride, Tav)
On gang (Lil' boy)
Say (Hell is you doing?)

I tell the plug shit gotta be musty (Musty), I don't even much want it, it ain't got no odor (No)
Tryna serve who at the door, man, this shit dead, artists don't get touched, better ask the promoter (The fuck is you thinking?)
Bitch, I'm from the hood, niggas snatch out your motor (Niggas snatch out your—)
Lil' nigga ridin' with switch just like chauffeur (Fah, fah)
Lowkey be scared, they'll tell you to go first (They'll tell you to—)
Baby, close your legs 'cause I want the throat first (I want that top)

Get off this pack, one call, need some more work
Nigga told you he trappin', but rеally a dope clerk
Nigga told you he trappin', but hе ain't sold no dope (No dope)
You thinkin' 'bout taking me, that's a no go (No, sir)
Loose stick bullets, they bounce just like pogo (Bah, bah)
When you walk in the trap, better make sure the door closed
I came from nothin', now I'm richer than my teacher (Nothin')
Dre just walked in with a dirty two liter
They play with fire, I pull up with that heater
I ain't gotta rap, I got 'bows of that ether (Ether)
Every day, I go get more money, Monifah
Pull up and serve old school out the Regal
I told Bubba, "Roll up with exoto"
Brand new Glock take dick like a thot ho
Ayy, I asked the bitch if she fucking or not
Wrist off-road, got so many rocks
Got so much in the clock

Ayy, ayy, I'm having fame, but I lowered that blick
Get in court with the judge and act like I ain't see shit
Lot of these niggas too broke, can't beef with
Switch on the glick, this bitch sound like a remix
Ayy, I'm in the kitchen, I'm cookin' a deep dish
She tryna fuck, Mike Jack', ho, beat it
Ayy, bitch leaving
Play with that gang, is you tweaking?
Designer drip, having sauce and season
Empty the drum with a switch on that Glock, ayy, get popped
She ain't tryna fuck, then she kicking some rocks
Real hood baby, nigga, long live Joc
She finessin' the kid, bitch, stop
Ayy, ayy, this rap shit, it's gettin' Eazy-E
We the niggas who they wanna be
I got these young niggas spinning for free on me
Young niggas shooting from three, deep
Up in the field, where the fuck is my cleats?
I pour a four in a soda, I'm geeked, codeine
Ayy, long live Bankroll, I keep it street
Stalkin' this opp like a motherfuckin' creep
I got some ice on my teeth and it's ice in my cup
Ayy, firework, nigga play and I'm lightin' it up
I was a loose screw, I had to tighten it up
Cuffin' that ho, but she dyin' to fuck, ayy

I tell the plug shit gotta be musty (Musty), I don't even much want it, it ain't got no odor (No)
Tryna serve who at the door, man, this shit dead, artists don't get touched, better ask the promoter (The fuck is you thinking?)
Bitch, I'm from the hood, niggas snatch out your motor (Niggas snatch out your—)
Lil' nigga ridin' with switch just like chauffeur (Fah, fah)
Lowkey be scared, they'll tell you to go first (They'll tell you to—)
Baby, close your legs 'cause I want the throat first (I want that top)