Ya'll Dead Wrong - Explicit Album Version
Ya'll Dead Wrong - Explicit Album Version

Amil - Ya'll Dead Wrong - Explicit Album Version Lyrics

R&B/Soul
Sep 13, 2000
212
Ya'll Dead Wrong - Explicit Album Version Music Video

Ya'll Dead Wrong - Explicit Album Version Lyrics

Amil outlaw fly indeed
Got every chic's man eyeing me
Think you could crush this try and see
It's the major coin i-n-c.
And am too hot to just be warm
I start fire alarms from dusk to dawn
Catch me with the diamond clusters on
And Gucci feathered sandals with the mustard thong
Model mommy
The body like a cola bottle mommy
Mulatto up in the galoino mommy
One in Amilliyon killin' em
Might have to change my name to billioyn
Voice so ill you'll want to speak my shit
Joints so hot you'll want to leak my shit
Plus haters sneak peak my shit
But still I be the only one to freak this shit

[Chorus]
Ya'll dead wrong
If you think you can be fuckin' with this
And you'll know
That ya'll got nothing on this
Ya'll want that or you want something like this
Those who hate
Yeah ya'll just fronting on this

Why chicks don't want to rap on the same song as me
You need a verse ma it's on me
See all this publishing belong to me
Just imagine how the secong album gonna be
Non-stop party hopping
Roc roc rocs and keep on rocking
Everything I spit be popping
Anything Amilliyon want she copping
Whoop whoop ain't nothing change
And I play more ballers then them rucker games
Light gray studs, ring, watch, plus the chain
Will I ever be broke what's my name?
Have you ever seen a chick like this?
Ever heard one spit like this
I dead'em all put my word on that
All money is legal and I murder tracks

[Chorus]

Cute as a button
Can't tell this bitch nothin
Ghetto fab whole chick bubbling
Diana Ross the boss of the rock
Shit you know me I got to floss at the spot
With a dime as nigga who be tossing knots
Every bitch hating 'cause I'm scalding hot
It can't be because I got begets on
Cause niggas love this bitch even with sweats on
I'm the A-m-i-l-liyon
Strictly be on that shit major coins be on
I got joints making competition want to drop dead
I got joints making you bop your head
I got joints that will have your eyes blood shot red
Fuck the doe I want my props instead
Stay real with it
Might pack steel with it
You can hate but you still gotta deal with it

[Chorus]

Writer(s): AMIL WHITEHEAD, AMIL B. WHITEHEAD, DANA STINSON
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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