Yakuza Lyrics – Neapolitan
Singer: Neapolitan
Title: Yakuza
Fight
n#gg#s sweet like candied yams
Too polite f#ck you ma’am, i’m the man
Pop these n#gg#s like a can, sh#t get dark just like a tan, she blow a n#gg# like a fan
All white like the klan, never age like peter pan, ni hao, kai-lan
Bury n#gg#s in the sand, they sweet and salty auntie annes
Calculate my moves like i’m playing chess, speaking hot sh#t say it with your chest
Choppa make a mess, seasoned like a vet, curse these n#gg#s like a mothеrf#ckin’ hex
And my team strong so we gotta flеx, burning holes in necks like a cigarette
Cardiac the only way i’m getting rest, i’m shootin’ sh#t like i’m pressing x
Like some pebbles you know how we rocking, so much bread on me buy the whole store when i’m shopping
Aryeh put this sh#t in the speakers it’s knockin’, he cooked this sh#t up yeah he had to re-rock it
Don’t get it twisted, me and my n#gg#s is locked in, like we opened a soda this sh#t started poppin’
We got three flavors and i am the cherry on top, we gon’ blow up like pearl harbor when we drop
I put c3 in a popo bag to start wars, i slam heads in a porsche car doors
I push back to address y’all wh#res, i play fair to just even the scores
I tie necks with imbecile cords, i need rest to address y’all more
Your new bars got the whole squad bored, i mean snore
Like i’m really hard floored
I’m off the hinge just to break down doors, i need more to be passing the torch
f#ck the fame and f#ck the hype and f#ck the type of nightlife y’all pretend to like
f#ck your fam and f#ck your crew and if you not cool, mother f#cker, then it’s f#ck you too
f#ck your raps and f#ck the cap and matter of fact to those opposed, yeah it’s f#ck y’all back
You’re sh#t whack i’m talking straight-up bad, like it’s pathetic y’all’s brags are just blatantly trash
Like it’s pathetic i don’t really wanna say it no more, i make a bag and then i go ahead and make me some more
I take the cash and then i f#cking go and bank out the store, i need breath in my chest just to handle my core
She top me off until my sh#t was numbing, i made the whole beat so you know that it’s thumpin’
You keep talking sh#t and you best get to clutching, you keep talking sh#t and we gon’ get to dumping
If jiddy dicaprio, i’m gatsby, the sh#t on my wrist ain’t brown, i’m too flashy
This all-white fit got k’s, i ain’t ashy, and i stay lit off tinder, you can’t match me
I’m way too clean you n#gg#s trashy, if n#gg#s want the smoke, my n#gg#s know where the gats be
I been bodying beats i’m too nasty, i know i been the best, you n#gg#s don’t gotta gas me
Suite life f#cked a b#tch named ashley, i been actually f#ckin’ mad when y’all ask me who best from the east to the west
Y’all try hard and i still do better with less, i’m on par, b#tch it’s not a contest, i drop bars, b#tch my pen my flex
I keep the pen on deck, this sh#t easy and i don’t get no stress
Like throat cancer b#tch you trust i’m coming for neck, cut the check
And you best keep your eye open, i upgrade like a kaiyoken
All of my money multiply times ten, i keep the steel, b#tch i don’t bend
Get out the mix, b#tch you don’t blend i hit the switch, make this glock extend
I ain’t gon’ lie, if you died i wouldn’t cry but i’d pretend
You can’t deny that i’m the man, i been solo like i’m kylo ren
Like baby keem i avoid your trends
Cut sh#t like a katana, me and my n#gg#s we monsters
Samurai slice you’re daughter, shogun shotgun slugs to your collar
Not no good fellas, yeah we mobsters
Tommy gun singing like sinatra, slice your tongue out if you don’t speak proper
Let them bullets loose like a choppa, g-check cops cause i wanna
Oh where you from? go ahead drop ’em
No opps left, f#ck all the talking
Tipping ain’t no option take his parents out put ’em up for adoption
No men left, nobody rocking
Flaming fist of fury, no hotboxing
Nobody stopping me, choppin’ the heads like a butcher, clean the blade then swerve the meat
Take out his kneecaps, call that sh#t cheap
Tony took that tactic from me, call me a wise guy cause i’m more than a g
Sick of this sh#t, f#ck with my n#gg#s get hit with this clip
No matter what end call it a stick, bullet hit his temple but we say that he tripped
Keep it omertà we don’t talk about sh#t, open your mouth and i’m f#cking yo b#tch
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Lyrics Neapolitan – Yakuza
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