Lyrics Young Pappy – The Wait Is Over
Text:
Young Pappy:
Everybody stay talking ’bout they wanna hear that new Young Pappy and Bang
Well, my manager he taxed for a feature, but you don’t get taxed if you the gang
A head shot put a patch in his brain
Shorty told Spazz, «I can’t hang where you hang cause you hang with Young Pappy and he gave you that name.»
Bang Da Hitta:
Bitch I go crazy, bitch I got crazy!
Ready to kill, going in like the navy!
Whippin’ the coke like I’m bringing back slavery
My niggas they with it, they riding, no racing
They pop out the cut like a scene up on Jason
My niggas don’t run, only time when they chasing
How cause that death flip them right on their faces
You don’t rock with us? Fuck ’em then waste them
Young Pappy:
Sure I got a whole lot of motherfucking shooters on my squad
Whole lotta shots, whole lotta shooters
Whole Uzis, whole lotta macs
Whole lotta tecs, whole lotta Glocks, whole lotta Rugers
Sure I made all the shots, saying I’m a rap star
Nigga’s getting clapped, hell nah, we ain’t losing
Toolies dress me up, hell nah, I ain’t doing
Nigga’s know where I stay but hell nah, I ain’t moving
I ain’t ducking no action
When you see me, it’s cracking
Nine times out of ten, I got it
You ain’t no savage
You gon’ make me call up Mac tell ’em «Fuck traffic, bring out them ratchets»
I ain’t never lackin’
I ain’t never lackin’
Nigga’s say never say never, well bitch nigga, I ain’t never lackin’
Bang Da Hitta:
For my squad, I’m a blam niggas
In broad day, go ham, nigga
It’s killa season, no Cam, nigga
Get lean like you off xans, nigga
It’s straight bars, no tams, nigga
All my niggas hundred grand, nigga
We’ll pop out that van, nigga
Just spazz out, straight fan, nigga
I’m fucking up ?
Shoot with precision, you shot in the air, what you shooting at, pigeons?
You PBGK? Bitch is you tripping?
That’s what turns niggas up into victims
Beat him and burn him in front of his children
Burning them up but then we were the killers
Young Pappy:
I be on the Pole where it’s cold at
You need like 2-3 coats and about 4 hats
I hang with Insanes, we post where the Stones at
Nigga talk crazy, where his brains? Where the floors at
I be on the ave and the mav where the Moes at
I don’t come outside unless I ask where the poles at
Fucking with a real nigga, she don’t wanna go back
Ask about a body, hell nah, I don’t know that
Bang Da Hitta:
Got Pap on the track, we spazzing