Gotham City lyrics

[Chorus: A$AP Ferg]
Point 'em out, where he at? Chrome nine, point the MAC
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, sip lean, so relax
Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, Cozy Boys, so relax

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Young Trap Lord, dime of the purp
Ride or die boy, n*gga get murked
Pull a nine boy, play with the dirt
Laying on who sleep in the earth
She feel on my clothes, she lifting her skirt
She say she love coke, she sniffin the work
Semi-auto Tec, guns go flur
Bang, bang-bang and another one squirt
Givenchy my body, Ksubi my colleagues
Versace, my eyelids, but it Yves Saint-Laurent me
Twelvyy in Huraches, and Margiela on Rocky
Yohji Yamamoto for Ty Nast and Ty Beats
f*ck b*tches that's on me, wack b*tches move kindly
Last n*ggas of a dying breed, yeah me, myself, and Irene
n*ggas hear them sirens when that four-fif' and that nine squeeze
China b*tch sip sake, while I chop that ass with that Tommy
[Chorus: A$AP Ferg]
Point 'em out, where he at? Chrome nine, point the MAC
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, sip lean, so relax
Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, Cozy Boys, so relax

[Verse 2: A$AP Twelvyy]
We all want that Meech money, gold grill make ya speak funny
My eyes open cause the streets hungry
A New Jack f*ckin' Gee money
n*ggas dead over sneak money, sh*t ain't sweet, honey
The streets love me, white Airs and a peach rugby
I go hard cause them n*ggas thought the least of me
I'm in the hell yeah that b*tch made a beast of me
Hold your crib, while your b*tch make a feast of me
I'm a greedy n*gga stuffin' my face
Gettin' money, f*ckin' b*tches, yeah, them stuck in my ways
'bout to turn 23 but I give zero f*cks
n*ggas wanna sign me, tell them n*ggas zero up, wassup

[Chorus: A$AP Ferg]
Point 'em out, where he at? Chrome nine, point the MAC
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, sip lean, so relax
Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, Cozy Boys, so relax
[Verse 3: A$AP Nast]
It's a pistol poppin' business n*gga mind ya own
Expensive taste in guns, shorty's coppin' chrome
I'm in love with a chopper dog, hit 'em, get 'em, split 'em
Turn a f*ck n*gga into a bowl of pasta dog, I'm not at all
A n*gga to be f*cked with, shorty got the hammer, n*ggas can't touch this
Moms got the biscuit, dad own a musket, gone off a substance
Middle finger up to the b*tch who would f*ck sh*t
Living in a world where young n*ggas run sh*t
All over something, but it's really nothing
Go on with the f*ck sh*t, young n*ggas run this all

[Chorus: A$AP Ferg]
Point 'em out, where he at? Chrome nine, point the MAC
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, sip lean, so relax
Point em out where he at, chrome nine point the Mac
Sit him down in the trap, four pound for the strap
Big guns go "B'lat!" A$AP where it's at
Real n*ggas, all black, Cozy Boys, so relax