[Intro: A$AP Ferg]
I gotta close the window before I record
Cause New York don't know how to be quiet


[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Coogi down to the socks like I'm biggie poppa

Keep your girl head in my Tommy boxers
But really though, she a silly ho
Cause you know the Fergenstein getting plenty dough

She don't get nothin' from a ^!$$% though
All she get is hard dick and some Cheerios
Kinda silly though, but I'm lyrical

Bet I put him in the dirt with the penny loafs
No tint though, on my window
So you see a ^!$$% shining in the Benzo

Ballin'! (Skkrrrrr!)
Got me feelin' like Jim Jones
I'm a pimp though, no limp though

Couldn't copy my style in Kinkos
Put in work, run up on a killer then I put him in the dirt
Run up in the buildin', semi gon' squirt

That's what a ^!$$% get when they getting on my nerves
I ain't lyin' - lay 'em on the curb
Riding on a killer who be coming at Ferg!

Damnnnnnnnn!!!
Girl you twerk, twerk that kitty girl make it purr
Put in work, Flacko put 'em in the dirt

French got the shovel he gon' put him in the earth
Trinidad maniac with a all gold hearse
Yeah, uh, put in work

Schoolboy Q with a pound of the purp
So much work he'll smoke up the Earth
Polo Ground, A$AP World


[Verse 2: Schoolboy Q]
A lotta ^!$$%s died, should've been from Hoover Street

No I do not have a car, but I could buy one every week
Pimpin' like I'm 33, move keys like I'm 36
Ship O's like I'm 28, Tacoma know I'm pushin' weight

O-X-Y I'm in your state, eatin' off your dinner plate
My heart live where Santa stay, super fly, I need a cape
(*##$es throwin' #~!!@ back and forth, they on my dick

Passion drippin' off her lip, she say she never had a crip
Uh, put in work, all big booties make ya twerk
All big !@%$ lift your shirt, show a player what you're worth

Yeah, put in work, spray his $$# in front the Church
Deacon said I did my %#@!, the pastor said, "That ^!$$% turnt"
Pop my collar on my shirt, make these (*##$es go berserk

Shippin' units, Captain Kirk, takin' xannies poppin' percs
Might not last, I'll bomb ya first, turn your backseat to a hearse
Back to the lab with mother Earth, had to give Young Ferg a verse


[Verse 3: A$AP Rocky]
A lot of homies cried, due to crimes, homicide

Drivin' by, poppin' nines, Pakistan, Columbine
Out of line, pistols barkin' "Ar, ar" ride or die
Write a script, design a line, all I see is dollar signs

You want that pretty Flacko? Ratchets, designer jackets
The same ^!$$%s who jack it be the first who claim we !@$)gots
My (*##$ is a movie actress, side (*##$ won a beauty pageant

Got a chick that worked at Magic, but I'm so damn fine make a (*##$ look average
See my daddy in heaven, right next to Ferg's
You know what's up I'm throwin' bucks

Loaded Lux, put in work