how 2 make it in america lyrics – yg

how 2 make it in america
(feat. mac miller)

[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’m a real n*gg*, i ain’t got time to fake
the glock like a fan, ha blow ya mind away
i’m on my grind told my momma f*ck a 9-5
i get money f*ck b*tches that’s my alibi
i’m laughing in ya b*tches p*ssy like hahahahahaha
but anyways i’m getting paid, yeah i get it how i’m living
treat the game like a spider in my house, i gotta get her
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’m a keep young n*gg*, n my momma frenso
give her a bottle of cirroc, n her [?] peeled
n if she ain’t f*ckin throw her out the windshield

[hook:]
real n*gg*, real n*gg*, i ain’t ever lie
change hoes like channels got these b*tches televised
here that n*gg* puff puff, now that n*gg* h*lla high
an i can show you how to make it in america
how ya ride, how ya ride, on 24 inches
hotel room we keep 24 b*tches, yup this how i’m living
n*gg* ya never change the price, living fast [?]

[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 flows and extensive flows
designer brands that you never own, a second phone that i’m never on
eating filetminone from her resturaunt
and that’s p*ssy, and i prefer 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 i’m riding threw the city with the top down
that’s the first day of summer n*gg*s hot now
i got bars that put you on lockdown
this ain’t the weight room but my n*gg*s got pounds
i hit the block then i bounce
she a young n*gg* 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 whipper 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 i’m a eat a b*tch
now she all on a n*gg* like cheetah print
i’m on mars n my flow on jupiter, wrist go dumb but my chain go stupider
i’m the sh*t b*tch i have yo n*gg*s stupider
now heavenly father please protect me from lucifer

[hook]

/ yg lyrics