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Y.A.G.A - hitlist Lyrics



Y.A.G.A - hitlist Lyrics




Uh
I'm about my business
Killing all these rappers, you could swear i had a hitlist
Yeah, fire department, don't wanna miss this
I'm serious business
Do you get the premise?

I'm Tom, and i hit you with my foolery
Don't be mad I'm dripped out, I wear a lot of jewelry
I'm dumb, epitome of stupidity
Pull to the drive thru in a Honda, wait

Gonna shave you bald then I'll slap your head
Gonna shoot you with a gun, now you're dead
Yeah I'm rich, always making more bread
Shut your corny ass up, you sound like this

Hey it's Fred!

Uh, the f*ck am i up to, bitch?
This shit is ridonculous
Pulling up with the 40 clip
I'm not a gangster!

I would like to apologize
I am actually white, and live in a middle class house
In a suburban area

I'm out of rhymes, I'm gonna say conglomerate
I killed your kid, cause he was fat, so please get over it
A comment just came in

Your voice is weird
From original Youtube dot com slash FredOwner

FUCK!

I got owned
He got games on your phone
I wanna play angry birds
Or else I'll do a groan
Why does my mother moan, when she sees uncle tony?

I got these racks coming in
I always win
The end, that shit is fin
I'll throw you in the bin

A shark has fins
Rhymed fin with fins
Stewie griffin
Yaga stay winning

Hold up

Drop a deuce
Tie ya noose
Yaga stay loose
In the studio, pooping

Uh, uh

You thought i was done?

I've been up all night, throwing honey buns!
Rapping my religion, I am a nun
You're father's absent, father of none
Wait, father of one, not father of son, though

I wear some glasses, cause' I'm kinda dope
You fightin' yaga, you fightin' a rope
We are booby trapped, like a looney tunes trope

Serving it up, make that shit fire
Shawty wanna f*ck, but she wears a pacifier
Like a baby, Goo goo, goo gaa ging goo gaa!
Does gibberish really count as a bar?

I shit your pants, and they go brown
I'll put you in a trance, ooh

There it goes
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Uh
I'm about my business
Killing all these rappers, you could swear i had a hitlist
Yeah, fire department, don't wanna miss this
I'm serious business
Do you get the premise?

I'm Tom, and i hit you with my foolery
Don't be mad I'm dripped out, I wear a lot of jewelry
I'm dumb, epitome of stupidity
Pull to the drive thru in a Honda, wait

Gonna shave you bald then I'll slap your head
Gonna shoot you with a gun, now you're dead
Yeah I'm rich, always making more bread
Shut your corny ass up, you sound like this

Hey it's Fred!

Uh, the f*ck am i up to, bitch?
This shit is ridonculous
Pulling up with the 40 clip
I'm not a gangster!

I would like to apologize
I am actually white, and live in a middle class house
In a suburban area

I'm out of rhymes, I'm gonna say conglomerate
I killed your kid, cause he was fat, so please get over it
A comment just came in

Your voice is weird
From original Youtube dot com slash FredOwner

FUCK!

I got owned
He got games on your phone
I wanna play angry birds
Or else I'll do a groan
Why does my mother moan, when she sees uncle tony?

I got these racks coming in
I always win
The end, that shit is fin
I'll throw you in the bin

A shark has fins
Rhymed fin with fins
Stewie griffin
Yaga stay winning

Hold up

Drop a deuce
Tie ya noose
Yaga stay loose
In the studio, pooping

Uh, uh

You thought i was done?

I've been up all night, throwing honey buns!
Rapping my religion, I am a nun
You're father's absent, father of none
Wait, father of one, not father of son, though

I wear some glasses, cause' I'm kinda dope
You fightin' yaga, you fightin' a rope
We are booby trapped, like a looney tunes trope

Serving it up, make that shit fire
Shawty wanna f*ck, but she wears a pacifier
Like a baby, Goo goo, goo gaa ging goo gaa!
Does gibberish really count as a bar?

I shit your pants, and they go brown
I'll put you in a trance, ooh

There it goes
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Ben Yaga
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: Y.A.G.A



Y.A.G.A - hitlist Video
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Performed By: Y.A.G.A
Language: English
Length: 2:35
Written by: Ben Yaga

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