Me Lyrics - Meek Mill | A$Ap Ferg

Fu*king with me
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
(ni*gas ain’t fu*king—)
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
You ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
(woahh, woahh)
Woahh, woahh (woahh, woahh)
Woahh, woahh, woahh, woahh
Drop (yeahh)

Flew her out on the first flight
Got that pu*sy the first night
Ni*gas say it’s war, then it’s on sight
Gang, gang (brrt)
Walk in this bi*ch with all this ice
I could’ve came through in a ‘rari
But hit the hood on my dirt bike, yeah (man)
Countin’ these bands up, been fu*king
My hands up (fu*k it up)
I was in paris, I pay for the drill
Hit your mans up (brrt)
Big glock 40 on the hipline
Hold my pants up (hold it up)
She was confused, like
“how you the g.O.A.T. In a lamb’ truck?
She like, “what?”
Fu*king this tall bi*ch from the back
Say, “stand up” (woo)
Then put your motherfu*king face down, a$$ up
Ni*ga been rich too long for makin’ these songs
My ni*ga, it’s past luck
Fu*king this bi*ch too long
She offered a threesome and I just pa$$ed up
She wanna go in the ‘rari (too small)
I wanna rip in the wraith (let’s go)
I wanna look at thе stars (stars)
Like I was hittin’ in space (yeah)
Ni*ga, how you gеt back home? (how he get back?)
Take a look at his case (check him out)
Said her period’s on (what happened?)
I put it on her face

Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
Yeahh, yeahh, harlem
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
Meek mill, what up?
Twenty bad bi*ches goin’ up with the gang
They fu*king for free (ooh-ooh)
You call her phone, I call her phone
She comin’ to me (yeah)

Got a boss bi*ch, dominican

Slim with the buns, cinnamon
Friend got the cake like entenmann’s
East coast bi*ch in timberlands (yeah)
Dip with the set like killa cam
Hop on a jet and we get a tan
Like mortal kombat when she throw it back
Her friends like, “finish him” (right)
Run up, gon’ flex, huh
It look like I’m looting in my closet
With the baguettes, huh
I just hit will up with a deposit (yeah)
Fill up my neck, huh
Lookin’ like light bugs sittin’ on my collar (right)
We been stressed, huh, pull up with a mink
Look like I am chewbacca
Blocka-blocka, turned to shottas
If them coppers try to pop us (ferg)
Then go sit at john and vinny’s
Have some pasta with some mobsters (yeah)
Swervin’ through philly
I am hangin’ with billies
And nobody really can stop us (woo)
Bee-ya, bee-ya, we throw dollars
Got your bee-ya’ pu*sy poppin’ like
Bee-yaa, bee-ya
Why you actin’ like a ho? Like a ho
Bee-yaa, bee-yaa
Why you actin’ like a ho? Like a ho
Bee-yaa, bee-yaa
Get yo’ eyes up off my dough, off my dough
Bee-ya, bee-yaa
Get yo’ eyes up off my dough, off my dough
(that’s right)

Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me (ni*gas ain’t fu*king—)
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me
Ni*gas ain’t fu*king with me (they can’t touch us)
Twenty bad bi*ches goin’ up with the gang
They fu*king for free (fu*king for free)
You call her phone, I call her phone
She comin’ two me
Bee-ya, bee-ya

Fu*king this bad bi*ch from the projects, her name tia
Head was good, the best on earth like russ and bia
Ni*ga asked me did I see her, but I ain’t see her
But I did, ’cause she was tucked in the fahina
Spanish bi*ches goin’ up like la marina
She a hot girl and I am hot two, jalapeño
We sell work and she wan’ work ’cause she a pinger
We gon’ serve that lil’ bi*ch
Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang
Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang