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Azealia Banks – الجهادي (JIHADI) lyrics
[Intro]
Ride the round, I mean around
How many party people trynna get wild
How many party people stepping this stomp?
[Verse 1]
Jihadi flew me to Tehran
Vacay, Djibouti Sands
Cop some Audemars, water my watch
Ships docked on the gulf, Obach
Papi slide inside this pussy
I bet you I’ll make you nut
Timbuktu for drinks and lunch
I sip the dates through the golden cup
This for my, this for my, this for my Nuyoricans
This for my New York bitches
Them Spanish Harlem bitches
That Gucci garter make them ballers slip they Arpels Clip-in
Y’all bitches starving, thriftin'
Y’all be retarded, strippin'
Yea nigga, yea nigga, I need some fucking money
Fuck what you, fuck what you, fuck what you talking 'bout
Fuck what you talking 'bout
You better watch your mouth
Y'all niggas outta clout
Banks with paper, now frown and cry
Y'all niggas ain't got no clout
Y'all niggas ain't got no round
Take it for pound, for pound
I could take it pound, for pound
Paper, pack it down
Take it, ship it outta town
[Verse 2]
Call the, call the, call the cops
I'll kick you off ya block
8th, St. Nick or Audobon
Go, go call the cops
If I come it's a war to fight
These niggas ain't hard inside
Nigga you gonna die
These niggas ain't bonafide
Niggas ain't ready
Ain't born to slide
These niggas ain't born to ride
Niggas ain't ready don't want it child
I'll send you the Dolja guy (to)
Hit you in your poker pout
Cause you's a joker child
Niggas be makin' 'em lol a lot
Tired of being thrown aside
I feel the soul inside s-s-soulless child
Overdrive, I'm overdrive
Okay nigga sure you right
It's a suicide, it's a suicide
Ride the round, I mean around
How many party people trynna get wild
How many party people stepping this stomp?
[Verse 1]
Jihadi flew me to Tehran
Vacay, Djibouti Sands
Cop some Audemars, water my watch
Ships docked on the gulf, Obach
Papi slide inside this pussy
I bet you I’ll make you nut
Timbuktu for drinks and lunch
I sip the dates through the golden cup
This for my, this for my, this for my Nuyoricans
This for my New York bitches
Them Spanish Harlem bitches
That Gucci garter make them ballers slip they Arpels Clip-in
Y’all bitches starving, thriftin'
Y’all be retarded, strippin'
Yea nigga, yea nigga, I need some fucking money
Fuck what you, fuck what you, fuck what you talking 'bout
Fuck what you talking 'bout
You better watch your mouth
Y'all niggas outta clout
Banks with paper, now frown and cry
Y'all niggas ain't got no clout
Y'all niggas ain't got no round
Take it for pound, for pound
I could take it pound, for pound
Paper, pack it down
Take it, ship it outta town
[Verse 2]
Call the, call the, call the cops
I'll kick you off ya block
8th, St. Nick or Audobon
Go, go call the cops
If I come it's a war to fight
These niggas ain't hard inside
Nigga you gonna die
These niggas ain't bonafide
Niggas ain't ready
Ain't born to slide
These niggas ain't born to ride
Niggas ain't ready don't want it child
I'll send you the Dolja guy (to)
Hit you in your poker pout
Cause you's a joker child
Niggas be makin' 'em lol a lot
Tired of being thrown aside
I feel the soul inside s-s-soulless child
Overdrive, I'm overdrive
Okay nigga sure you right
It's a suicide, it's a suicide
Lyrics taken from
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