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letra de how to make it in america - yg

[verse 1:yg]
okay my name yg and i came to play
f-ck,then i bust a nut, n i aim her face
yeah i’mma real n-gga, i ain’t got time to fake
the glock like a fan, ha blow ya mind away
im on my grind told my momma f-ck a 9-5
i get money f-ck b-tches thats my alibi
im laughing in ya b-tches p-ssy like hahaha
but anyways im getting paid, yeah i get it how i living
treat the game like a spider in my house, i gotta k!ll it
okay big d-ck bandit, yeah ya b-tch know
we outside smokin that indo, and my momma bends em, an my momma bends them
i’mma keep young n-gga , and my momma friends know
give her a bottle of ciroc , and a thizz pill
n if she ain’t f-ckin throw her out the windshield

[hook]
real n-gga ,real n-gga, i ain’t ever lie
change hoes like channels got these b-tches televised
hit that puff puff, now young n-gga h-lla high
an i can show you how to make it in america
how ya ride, how ya ridin, on 24inches
hotel room whatre you drinking, 24 b-tches, yup
yup thats how im living n-gga never check the price
living fast like i got a second life

[verse 2:mac miller]
uh, a 100 thousand in the briefcase, like i won a sweepstakes
party with aristocratic b-tches bring the cheese plate
i really am this, and it just seem great
weight of the world on my shoulders till my knees break
give em’ e pills, tell em be still
i got them donuts for ya n they cream filled
got them expensive clothes and extensive flows
designer brands that you never own, a second phone that im never on
eating filet mignon from her restaurant
and thats p-ssy, not before money
yeah it’s mac miller yg fo hunnid
so hit my up with that dutch to split
you mad that lil white boy f-cked ya b-tch
never time ya better cuff yo chick,cause she ain’t ever gonna get enough of this

[hook]

[verse 3:yg]
okay im riding though the city with the top down
that’s the first day of summer n-ggas hot now
i got bars flow will put you on lockdown
this ain’t the weight room but my n-ggas got pounds
i hit the block then i bounce
she a young n-gga gon’,just get yo b-tch quit blowing up my phone
what the f-ck is going on, tell that b-tch leave me alone
she only good when my whip or in her thong
okay i meet a b-tch,beat a b-tch
f-cked her then i leave a b-tch
f-cked her with the lights off she ain’t even see the d-ck
n if she looked bad you know ima eat a b-tch
now she all on a n-gga like cheetah print
im on mars n my flow on jupiter,wrist go dumb but my chain go stupider
i’m the sh-t man i have yo n-ggas stupider
now heavenly father please protect me from lucifer

- yg

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