f*ck Up the Fun lyrics

[Intro: Talking]
Tell him to keep that
Yeah just play the track stop cuttin it off
And lemme-lemme pop my sh*t
It is what it is hehe
f*ck is ya'll n*ggas doing?
You ready b*tch?
What up what up whatup?
Yo Yo Yo Yo!

[Verse 1]
Who want it? Who-who want it?
Which n*gga little goon gettin' stewed with a onion?
n*ggas all cute 'til the roogs in abundance
And ya dude get to running with the womb in his stomach
b*tch n*gga, b*tch get ya n*gga
All these n*ggas just raw food for the dinner
And these n*ggas better tuck in their little jewels when I enter
'Cause your b*tch hot n*gga finna f*ck up the fun
Don't f*ck with your b*tch when the rum in her punch
I might dance on these n*ggas, but the gun in the butt
The gold Jimmy's little mirror little stun in the clutch
And don't slip up little n*gga, I'll put the stun in your nuts
What? yo dude 'bout to f*ck up your trust
He gon' run when I hit ya, put you under the pump
You gon' run with your n*gga, now you close enough
To shoot once in the throat leave ya both in a slump, huh
Go 'head, go 'head, n*gga, pop off
You can get your fam and your man's and them shot off
I'ma get the AMS for ya and blow your top off
sh*t funny 'til the gun in your face
You better run with your n*gga, better open the safe
You better come up with the money better show up the weight
I'm gon' come with gorillas cause I run with the apes
And put shots in your butt like you wanted the cake
[Interlude]
Word
Most of ya'll n*ggas is f*cking pus*y out here
Like I’ll smack all y'all n*ggas in the face
All in the mouth and all in the sh*t
Like where ya'll n*gga's come from?
Y'all n*ggas is not from New York
Y'all n*ggas is not dirty
*Laughing* Where y'all n*ggas come from?

[Verse 2]
Ok, ok, ok, ok
b*tches better quit that chat
These b*tches better hold up with the yizzap-yap
I grips the fifth then click-clizzack clack
I hate to have to blow your little wig all back
I mean I hate to have to see you with your wig off, b*tch
I see you tryna come and get on, b*tch
You gon' trip, slip, fall, land and lick on di*k
It be the same n*gga 'bout to come and lick on this, hold up
Scram, hit the breeze, you a fan, b*tch, please
Don’t slip up in the presence of ya little bambin'
Don't get it at ya residence and get it so clean
'Cause I’m sick up with the evidence and b*tches won't speak
And we can freak with your man this week
Bad b*tches, you a nickel and your pus*y game weak, huh
I'm fickle and my pus*y named peach
I can disappear and let the pus*y game speak, huh
Let the pus*y game speak
n*ggas know the center of the pus*y stay peach
And these b*tches better keep it, keep it going like fif'
'Fore I reach and that thing go BRRRRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!
[Interlude/Outro]
What-what, what-what, what-what
BRAAHAAHAA, BRAAHAAHAA
Word, f*ck outta here, y'all lil internet ass b*tches
Like, I really do this, n*ggas is in Tokyo right now
Like, c'mon, y'all b*tches still on the Myspace, on YouTube, tryna get y'all little video views up to a million
Like, c'mon, y'all b*tches not f*cking with me
Like what kind of money is y'all b*tches really even getting for shows?
Like, is y'all b*tches even doing shows? Like c'mon
Like b-, c'mon, y'all b*tches is out here tryna like f*ck these little rap n*ggas and f*ck these little basketball n*ggas and sh*t
Like, I'm getting this money for real, for real, for real, for real, for real, c'mon now, sh*t

[Alternative Outro]
Keep it, keep it goin'
Who want it? Who-who want it?
Which n*gga little goon, which n*gga little goon-goon
Who want it? Who-who want it?
Which n*gga little goon, which n*gga little goon-goon