Ask the Promoters lyrics

[Intro: Big Yavo]
Gang
No, we ain't tucking no chain no where (Yeah)
(Ayy, let that sh*t ride, Tav)
On gang (Lil' boy)
Say (Hell is you doing?)

[Chorus: Big Yavo]
I tell the plug sh*t gotta be musty (Musty), I don't even much want it, it ain't got no odor (No)
Tryna serve who at the door, man, this sh*t dead, artists don't get touched, better ask the promoter (The f*ck is you thinking?)
b*tch, I'm from the hood, n*ggas snatch out your motor (n*ggas snatch out your—)
Lil' n*gga ridin' with switch just like chauffeur (Fah, fah)
Lowkey be scared, they'll tell you to go first (They'll tell you to—)
Baby, close your legs 'cause I want the throat first (I want that top)

[Verse 1: Big Yavo]
Get off this pack, one call, need some more work
n*gga told you he trappin', but rеally a dope clerk
n*gga told you he trappin', but hе ain't sold no dope (No dope)
You thinkin' 'bout taking me, that's a no go (No, sir)
Loose stick bullets, they bounce just like pogo (Bah, bah)
When you walk in the trap, better make sure the door closed
I came from nothin', now I'm richer than my teacher (Nothin')
Dre just walked in with a dirty two liter
They play with fire, I pull up with that heater
I ain't gotta rap, I got 'bows of that ether (Ether)
Every day, I go get more money, Monifah
Pull up and serve old school out the Regal
I told Bubba, "Roll up with exoto"
Brand new Glock take di*k like a thot ho
Ayy, I asked the b*tch if she f*cking or not
Wrist off-road, got so many rocks
Got so much in the clock
[Verse 2: TLE Cinco]
Ayy, ayy, I'm having fame, but I lowered that blick
Get in court with the judge and act like I ain't see sh*t
Lot of these n*ggas too broke, can't beef with
Switch on the glick, this b*tch sound like a remix
Ayy, I'm in the kitchen, I'm cookin' a deep dish
She tryna f*ck, Mike Jack', ho, beat it
Ayy, b*tch leaving
Play with that gang, is you tweaking?
Designer drip, having sauce and season
Empty the drum with a switch on that Glock, ayy, get popped
She ain't tryna f*ck, then she kicking some rocks
Real hood baby, n*gga, long live Joc
She finessin' the kid, b*tch, stop
Ayy, ayy, this rap sh*t, it's gettin' Eazy-E
We the n*ggas who they wanna be
I got these young n*ggas spinning for free on me
Young n*ggas shooting from three, deep
Up in the field, where the f*ck is my cleats?
I pour a four in a soda, I'm geeked, codeine
Ayy, long live Bankroll, I keep it street
Stalkin' this opp like a motherf*ckin' creep
I got some ice on my teeth and it's ice in my cup
Ayy, firework, n*gga play and I'm lightin' it up
I was a loose screw, I had to tighten it up
Cuffin' that ho, but she dyin' to f*ck, ayy
[Chorus: Big Yavo]
I tell the plug sh*t gotta be musty (Musty), I don't even much want it, it ain't got no odor (No)
Tryna serve who at the door, man, this sh*t dead, artists don't get touched, better ask the promoter (The f*ck is you thinking?)
b*tch, I'm from the hood, n*ggas snatch out your motor (n*ggas snatch out your—)
Lil' n*gga ridin' with switch just like chauffeur (Fah, fah)
Lowkey be scared, they'll tell you to go first (They'll tell you to—)
Baby, close your legs 'cause I want the throat first (I want that top)