Lil Yachty – Black Jesus Lyrics

[Intro]
(Oh Lord, Jetson made another one)

[Verse 1]
Pull out them racks on a nigga, he’s so funny
He talk the most shit, but got no money
Tough on the ’net, but in person, a new Gandhi
Stand on my racks and I’m Mo Bambi
I mean Mo Bamba, anklets a new Honda
I need threes with TiTi and with La’Shonda
I get right, it’s on sight for you newcomers
I got two solid fists for you mouth-runners
With the gang out in public, we ho hunters
Kick that bitch out the spot like a team punter
Think it’s time I run up me a Bugatti
Got this bitch ridin’ dick like a Ducati
Bought an AP plain jane out in Dubai
Actin’ out for attention, the new guy
Got another lawsuit, need a new tie
Know some niggas switched up, turned Ifá
Know some niggas out West bangin’ treetop
Made that bitch give me head ’til her knees pop
Switchin’ sides on the gang, tryna ease out
Catch you slippin’, we knockin’ your teeth out
Tryna come down my block, need to reroute
Tryna see all that shit that you talk ’bout
Know it’s cap in your rap, you ain’t gotta lie
In LA with Zack Bia at Nice Guy
In LA with Zack Bia at Papis
I’m in Houston ho huntin’ with Tati
I just had me a smooth little ten piece
Run it up
Stick on my back like I’m huntin’ up
Yeah, if I let my dogs loose, they gon’ run amuck
Quick to pull up with them 30s tucked

[Chorus]
Run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin’ tall
Hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul
I got big guap, big killers, big pieces
She wan’ fuck the gang, told that bitch to write a thesis
Pull up all white, lookin’ like I’m black Jesus
And my new crib fancy like the Saint Regis
Niggas sweet as shit, turn ’em to a Reese’s Pieces
Diamonds shinin’ so damn bright, give a nigga seizures

[Verse 2]
Nothin’ make me more happy than backends
I’m straight to no signal, them racks in
These new niggas’ music is trashcan
He can’t feed his fans, so they fastin’
He told ’em, “Let’s all go Muslim”
That bitch nigga ain’t out hustlin’
I said take a sip, why you guzzlin’?
Give me my damn cup back, nigga
I’m too rich to be out here tusslin’
Buddy just paid a rack for some ‘Tussin
Hope he sick, ’cause that’s all that it’s good for
I wish that my big brother did more
I pray that my lil’ sister live long
Paint the ‘Rari all yellow like Armstrong
Got a stock with a stick, it’s an arm long
Wow
Heard they said I went broke, boy, was they wrong
I just cashed in a check, it’s a phone number
Bitch, your ass on the porch like the door number
We gon’ track your ass down like LoJack
Why they playin’ with me? I need more racks
To the money, I’m runnin’ up four flat
This shit right here gon’ need four plaques

[Chorus]
Run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin’ tall
Hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul
I got big guap, big killers, big pieces
She wan’ fuck the gang, told that bitch to write a thesis
Pull up all white, lookin’ like I’m black Jesus
And my new crib fancy like the Saint Regis
Niggas sweet as shit, turn ’em to a Reese’s Pieces
Diamonds shinin’ so damn bright, give a nigga seizures