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808 Mafia


[Intro: Anarchy P.]
Yuri the God
Ayy, what's good, ACOT? Yuh
Eastside to Westside, bruh
808 Mafia (Ayy, yuh)

[Verse 1: Anarchy P.]
Smokin' on that gas, think the neighbors know what we doing
I can't settle down 'cause that money I be pursuing
b*tches on my di*k 'cause I'm winning, these n*ggas losing
Watch a n*gga pull up (Flex), hoes choosing
But I could give a f*ck about a mothaf*ckin' thot
I'm tryna get a shiny bezel on my wristwatch (Yuh, on my wrist)
So a n*gga sell dope and hit licks (n*gga, f*ck cops)
If they try to pull me over, I'ma hit 'em with the Glock
Or the TEC, make a mess (Is this a threat?), n*gga, yes
JP, oh you got a lick set, n*gga, bet
Headshots with them red dots, leave a n*gga dead (Fah)
Top master chef, finesse your b*tch up out the head
Chop, chop, cook, cook, steak knife in the sauce, b*tch
You gon' do yo' job and lick me up till I get soft, b*tch
I don't f*ck with n*ggas 'cause I swear these n*ggas garbage
b*tch, ACOT and Yuri stomping sh*t just like a moshpit
How I scoop yo' b*tch like a n*gga was using chopsticks
How a n*gga dress, you would think that a n*gga got rich
How I made that n*gga run you, would think that he got hit
Yeah, I'm chasing bands till I got a crib in my closet

[Verse 2: ACOT]
Ayy, Yuri, hold my piece, I think the Feds is after me
I see snakes inside their eyes, they eating from the apple tree
People switchin' up on me, moving on, I smoke my weed
Shout-out Young Plvg and the rest, you emcees are my family, ayy
Young boy doing things, ayy
Honeys wanna bang, ayy
ACOT, that's my name, ayy
Your love gave me brain, ayy
f*ck that hoe to sleep, wow
Baby love my D, wow
di*k yo' shawty down, damn
See me in her dreams, ayy
Bet I hit that f*ckin' lick, 'bout 20 on my f*ckin' wrist
I had to run up on that b*tch, lil' pus*y boy was lookin' rich
Sorry God, I had to do it, money got me feelin' stupid
I'm obsessed with thoughts of it, I love that sh*t, got hit by Cupid
Ayy, I ain't finished yet, got bars, let's make a f*ckin' bet
I'ma talk my sh*t until you know that I'm the f*ckin' best, ayy
Young man and I'm coming from the f*ckin' West, ayy
I'ma rap till a Jesus piece is on my neck
Ayy, yah, where the fat b*tches at?
Type of hoe to make me chicken in my kitchen, shaking ass
If that hoe ain't on her knees, you know she's sittin' in my lap
I don't think she Santa Claus but she straight emptied out my sack, oh, yuh

[Outro: ACOT]
Ayy, yuh

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