Joey Fatts – The Wave Matthews Band lyrics

[Intro: A$AP Yams]
Yeah, it's your boy
Yamborghini on the motherfucking check in
AKA Wavybone
AKA the Puerto Rican R Kelly
AKA Young Chocolate Factory
Parentheses, no homo, you feel me?
In this life, you got two kinds of people
Those who ride the wave, and those who provide the wave
Me, Fatts, and Da$h, we out here providing the wave
In Versace swim trunks, surfing the seven seas
Y'all on the beach shore with your khakis rolled up
With your chancletas in your hand, just observing the wave
You feel me?

[Verse 1: Da$h]
This that Tony T getting thrown off the boat
Rosenburg wouldn't have died if he ain't blow all that coke
Carlito watching bitches through the peep hole
Get a message to a seagull, fly away birdy, I'm 7:30
Laying on the beach, bitch on my torso, sand in my feet
Owl feather towel, just to try the physique
Sit at the top in the Zenith, see'd Athena, roll the weed for me
Hades hating, but it really ain't a thing to me
Young immortal, nigga, skin made of wax and gold
Popeye with the red eyes while I'm puffing on the spinach, ho
Breaking any status quo, like Marshall Brady fragile nose
Went from playing snatch and go to selling niggas tracks for dough
It's the rap camp renegade, syrup in my lemonade
Newports every time I scrape my dinner plate
Malt liquor and Backwood smoke fill my lungs and my fucking veins
Drunk texting a bitch who half naked in someone's centre page
To keep it, I treats the shit just like the movie Heat
Show down in the fucking street, fire at the coppers
Blocka, blocka, call the fucking doctor
Think it's a Opera the way that fat bitch singing
When the mobsters in the building, them alarms start ringing
Yeah, So, nigga


[Interlude: A$AP Yams]
Ya heard? it's your boy, Yam [?], feel me?
I'm feeling like, [?] this bitch
We got more bitches than them twins from Jagged Edge
Ya heard? I'm in the wave fortress right now
With a cashmere sun visor, eating fried zebra back
What you know 'bout that?

[Verse 2: Joey Fatts]
Ounces in the dresser, trapping under pressure
Never been a one for Lexus, 40 leave him on a stretcher
Pray to God daily, know he got me through whatever
So I kept my ties and went and bought me a Beretta
Heater for the cold weather, and snow for the sleigh
And want more, then I got a gun store under my bed
And if he play with my bread, JFK a nigga head
Then it's back to moving Brittany, staying low from K feds
My momma say I'm losing my mind because I creep with my nine
And now I'm rapping, shit, I feel like Shyne
[?] lawyers for my niggas, try and buy him some time
Flip a sack to re up, now I'm back on my grind
Young niggas do it all for the revenue
Run up in the house with two niggas that ain't scared to shoot
Let them cannons loose and send 'em to the sky
Then pray for better days ‘cause this the life we live until we die