trap lord season begins, now repent yo' sins.
this yamborghini on the motherfuckin' check-in. you know i had to hang-glide through for this one.
you know...we at the all-star game right now.
eyes closed! *swish*
shootin' fade aways from half-court! *elbow in the rim'n'all that*
tomahawk jams! *y'all still in the d-league doin', uh, layup drills*
ya heard? *ya feel me?*
"let it go" is mucke für krönungszeremonien von pharaonen. richtig majestätisch.
so it's like..."fuckin' problems" - platinum! *bling, bling*
"long.live.a$ap" - number one album in the country! *bling blow*
sold out tours...what's next?
trap lord!
let these motherfuckers have it. let 'em know we not playing this year.
the limbs never been so relaxed, ever. *hehe*
it's lonely at the top - all this shrimp, nobody to share it with.
we ain't trippin' though. *KCHRKCHRKCHRKCHR*
y'all walkin' 'round with wrinkled silks, looking crazy.
now i mean, pay your dry-cleaning bill and all that. *pay that, pay that*
'cause it's like...it ain't even a competition no more.
*huuuuhuehehuhehehuhhhh*