Azealia Banks - Fuck Up the Fun lyrics

Tell him to keep that
Yeah just play the track stop cuttin it off
And lemme lemme pop my shit
It is what it is hehe
Fuck is ya'll niggas doing? You ready bitch?
What up what up whatup? 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 in 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 ya'll 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
Like where ya'll nigga's come from?
Y'all niggas is not from New York
Y'all niggas is not dirty
Laughing Where y'all niggas come from?

Ok, ok, ok, ok 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 won'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 BRRRRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!

What-what, what-what, what-what
Braahaahaa, braahaahaa
Word, fuck outta here
Y'all lil internet ass bitches
Like, I really do this
Niggas is in Tokyo right now
Like, c'mon, y'all bitches still on
The Myspace, on YouTube
Tryna get y'all little video views
Up to a million like, c'mon
Y'all bitches not fucking with me
Like what kind of money is y'all
Bitches really even getting for shows?
Like, is y'all bitches even
Doing shows? Like c'mon like b-, c'mon
Y'all bitches is out here tryna
Like fuck these little rap
Niggas and fuck these little
Basketball niggas and shit
Like, I'm getting this money
For real, for real
For real, for real, for real, c'mon now
Shit

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?
Which nigga little goon
Which nigga little goon-goon