Yuck! (edited) Lyrics - 2 Chainz

Yuck Daddy! Yuck! 

Yuck Daddy! Yuck! 

Uh, cut the top off, call it Amber Rose 

Just bought a big body 

time to paint the toes 

Known to act a donkey on the camel-toe 

Then take the camel-toe 

and turn it into casserole 

2 Chainz talkin' on the FLX phone 

Poof! Just like that the whole check gone 

Former Posturepedic I was slept on 

So many chains on it look 

like my neck gone 

My girl came through and brought an extra body 

Now that's an after party 

for the after party 

Two-gun game 

all-black Ferrari 

His and her Armani 

put it in a tonic 

And yeah, the bread good if the head good 

Before Benihana's it was canned goods 

Before canned goods 

it was Similac 

I'm from where they send shots 

Then we send 'em back 

A half a million dollars worth of crack money 

Wrap your parents up 

Now you got a black mommy 

Yeah I did it 

True to my religion 

Two guns on me 

Both with extensions 

If you on the pole 

Play your position 

I got enough dough to pay your tuition 

Corduroy Trues 

With the skull cap 

I just woke up 

Tell me where the drugs at 

And after the drugs 

Where the girls at 

And after the girls 

Where the love at 

And if it ain't no love 

I'm like fuck that 

Nigga I'm so dope 

You could catch a fuckin' contact 

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Good weed, bad bitch 

Got these hoes on my dick like Brad Pitt 

Woah, I seen it all before 

The bitch got a man 

But she schemin' on the low 

How it go? It go 

Fuck them other niggas cause I'm down for my niggas 

My homies got the blickers 

Automatics no clickers 

Huh? Codine, no liquor 

Man, life is a bitch 

Mine is a gold digger 

I'm fucked 

Let's fuck 

She said she on her period 

I said, "Yuck" 

I called another bopper 

Photos 

I beat it like a copper 

Two big chain 

One big chopper, bitch 

I got the chopper for the cold response 

The codine got me standin' horizontal 

I had enough of the broken promises 

So I'm in a room full of Pocahontases 

And this shit is off the meat rack 

Weed sack, big car 

Layin' with my seat back 

We next, weed never left Holland, weed bag 

All this ice on my 

And my niggas playing freeze tag 

Lord forgive me 

This my fourth foreign 

If you baby daddy lame 

You should forewarn him 

I come through with the yapper on 

Turn that nigga 

Into hot bologna 

I'm the type a nigga cop a Rolly 

Cop a Benz, cop a two 

Then wear it all to Church 

Nigga Hallelu 

Uh, I'm from the trap where the block'll pay you 

Me and my nigga pass your ho like a hot potato 

I be like you could get her, he be like you could get her 

I be like you could have her, he be like you could have her 

He be like, it don't matter, I be like, me neither 

Uh, my old school got twenty-sixes on it 

And I got you girl kissin' on me 

Good weed, bad bitch 

Got these hoes on my dick like Brad Pitt 

Woah, I seen it all before 

The bitch got a man 

But she schemin' on the low 

How it go? It go 

Fuck them other niggas cause I'm down for my niggas 

My homies got the blickers 

Automatics no clickers 

Huh? Codine, no liquor 

Man, life is a bitch 

Mine is a gold digger 

I'm fucked 

Let's fuck 

She said she on her period 

I said, "Yuck" 

I called another bopper 

I beat it like a copper 

Two big chain 

One big chopper, bitch 

Yuck Daddy! Yuck! 

Yuck Daddy! Yuck! 

Yuck-yuck-yuck Daddy! 

Two big chain, one big chopper 

Two big chain, one big chopper 

Two big chain, one big chopper 

Two big chain, one big chopper, bitch