BAPE X SUPREME Lyrics

Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

Run up on me, I'ma blow

All these niggas be some hoes

Me and gang, we on go

I'ma send you to jehov

Run up on me, you get bent

Shawty head is heaven sent

Ain't no need to make amends

We got him and his mans

In my jeans, is 40 bands

Never needed an advance

Swear the way that shawty screamin'

would of thought she from Japan

Coldest nigga I'm anemic

Where the wocky cup, I need it

Catch you playin' on my team and

I'ma leave you layin' on the cement

Have you layin' five feet

Put that on the whole team

I'ma wockhardt fein

Mix the Bape with Supreme

Mix the Bape with Supreme

Wrist flooded VVs

Shit like 8 degrees

How much colder can I be

Little more and you might freeze

Tattletalin' that ain't P

Wock in me company

No LLC

Ice hockey like the puck

I ain't never get no fuck

Clearly I'm the runner up

Hold up, let me turn it up

Hop out, we on the feet

Ain't no need to park the V

Walk down, then we spinning

Spinning, Ain't gone let em come to me

I don't ever bust back

Cause I'm the first to up the heat

Ain't no time to spin back

We already on the E

High tech, on me

My neck, on freeze

Little much, OD

Don't catch Covid

No cash, no cold

Throw away, my clothes

That shit is so old

I don't rock vlone

Well At least not no more

Perky's got me moving slow

He so gangsta on the phone

Till I'm knocking at your door

Yeah, you right, I put it on, Did

Feelin' like I'm Lil Mosey

Acting like they ain't noticed

Designer my clothes be

Need me a bitch that's bust down

Need me a bitch that's Elsa

Need me a bitch that's water water

I ain't talking no Celsius

I ain't talking no sparking

we got choppas, they sparking

When my dawgs, they barking

Outside with the sergeants

Her back, I'm marching

You can call a nigga bane

Shit, I'm already swerving

I just hope it don't rain

Finna have this shit pouring

Yes, we sending them mortars

Locked in and that's the morse code

Mac 11, that's the source

Mac 11, that's the source

Bitch, we swerving in the porch

choppa singing, that's the chorus

Kick back, no horse

Fuck Boy, sit back

I don't really got time to go tit for tat

We gon' send that boy streams like Kai Cenat

Why these fuck boys mad? cause my pockets fat

I done ran up some bands that you never had

Watch my choppa do magic without the hat

Got this from overseas, this is not from Saks

Swear this demon a beast, it go way too fast

Mags what we unleash it

Wrist caught a cold no disease

Cannot cool me down, I came with the heat

Know these niggas mad, act like I don't pee

Cartier, Mike Amiri the jeans