Fuck Up the Fun Songtext
von Azealia Banks

Tell him to keep that
Yeah just play the track
Stop cuttin it off
You know what I mean, lemme pop my shit
It is what it is hehe
How the fuck is y′all niggas doing?
(You ready bitch?)
Whatup whatup whatup?
Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo!


Who want it? Who-who want it?
Which nigga little goon gettin' stewed with a onion?
Niggas all cute ′til the roogs in abundance
And ya dude get to running with the womb in his stomach
Bitch nigga, bitch get ya nigga
All these niggas just raw food for the dinner
And these niggas better tuck their little jewels when I enter
'Cause your bitch hot nigga finna fuck up the fun
Don't fuck with your bitch when the rum in her punch
I might dance on these niggas, but the gun in the butt
The gold Jimmy′s little mirror little stun in the clutch
And don′t slip up little nigga, I'll put the stun in your nuts
What? Yo dude ′bout to fuck up your trust
He gon' run when I hit ya, put you under the pump
You gon′ run with your nigga, now you close enough
To shoot once in the throat leave ya both in a slump, huh
Go 'head, go ′head, nigga, pop off
You can get your fam and your man's and them shot off
I'ma get the AMS for ya and blow your top off
Shit funny ′til the gun in your face
You better run with your nigga, better open the safe
You better come up with the money better show up the weight
I′m gon' come with gorillas cause I run with the apes
And put shots in your butt like you wanted the cake

Word
Most of y′all niggas is fucking pussy out here
Like I'll smack all y′all niggas in the face
All in the mouth and all in the shit
Where you niggas come from?
Y'all niggas is not from New York
Y′all niggas is not dirty
Hahah, y'all niggas come from?


Ok, ok, ok, ok (Oh, shit)
Bitches better quit that chat
These bitches better hold up with the yizzap-yap
I grips the fifth then click-clizzack clack
I hate to have to blow your little wig all back
I mean I hate to have to see you with your wig off, bitch
I see you tryna come and get on, bitch
You gon' trip, slip, fall, land and lick on dick
It be the same nigga ′bout to come and lick on this, hold up
Scram, hit the breeze, you a fan, bitch, please
Don′t slip up in the presence of ya little bambin'
Don′t get it at ya residence and get it so clean
'Cause I′m sick up with the evidence and bitches don't speak
And we can freak with your man this week
Bad bitches, you a nickel and your pussy game weak, huh
I′m fickle and my pussy named peach
I can disappear and let the pussy game speak, huh
Let the pussy game speak
Niggas know the center of the pussy stay peach
And these bitches better keep it, keep it going like fif'
'Fore I reach and that thing go brraahh!

What-what, what-what, what-what
Braahaahaa, braahaahaahaahaahaahaa
Braahaahaa, braahaahaahaahaahaahaa
Keep it, keep it goin′
Who want it? Who-who want it?
Which nigga little goon, which nigga little goon-goon
Who want it? Who-who want it?
Who want it? Who-who want it?
Which nigga little goon, which nigga little goon-goon
Who want it? Who-who want it