Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Bahamas’ by A$AP Mob. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of A$AP Mob or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Uh, Lil Boat
Aye, aye
Ain’t never been to Bahamas, nah
I done fucked multiple mamas
I done count multiple commas
We brought in multiple llamas
Rapping all smooth, rapping all smooth
Wrap it up smooth like Osama
It’s not what they say, it’s ’bout what they do
And trust me, they don’t want the drama, nah
Ain’t never been to Bahamas
I done fucked multiple mamas
I done count multiple commas
We brought in multiple llamas
Rapping all smooth, rapping all smooth
Wrap it up smooth like Osama
It’s not what they say, it’s ’bout what they do
And trust me, they don’t want the drama nah
I stay with that Uzi like Drama
I stay with the Uzi for drama
I stay in the cut with piranhas
My bitch bad and boujee, Katana
I hit multiple JessiCassandras
We having sex in the sauna
F*ck it up, f*ck it up, f*ck it up
Nigga talk down, that’s a uppercut
Bow, shut up
Get you some money and run it up
Fucking your bitch, she ain’t fun enough
Smoking a blunt when I nut in her, face
Huh, can’t hit my weed
Can’t water my seed
Can’t play in my garden
Bitch, beg your pardon
2-2-3, Harden
Ooh, that’s James
She don’t want you ’cause you lame
I’m up, she’d rather f*ck with us
(Backroom, backroom)
(Jiggy nigga comin through, talk yo shit)
I ain’t never been to Bahamas
A nigga done been to Milano
Met with your favorite designer
Gucci show with Alessandro
Your sis give me head on recliners
Your wife wanna throw me vagina
I f*ck on your aunt, ya mama
Got syrup like Aunt Jemima
Like the Maple Leaf, take a peek
Get to the bread like a bakery
Wait on me, wait for me
Soon as we f*ck, get away from me
Paper plate or fine china
Benihana, McDonalds
Hit up Empanada Mamas
Eat at delis or in diners
Who’s that peeking through the window?
Got the chopper boutta blind us
Couldn’t pick me out of a line up
Niggas psyching like Ewonda
Spaz fast, get to the bag
Look at the digital dash
Little bitch frivilous
Nigga just hit that shit
Get to it, get in it
Just trying to live a bit
New shades, Gosha
Got me looking like a Beatle
Hoppin’ on it like a beetle
This ain’t Puma, this needles
Ain’t never been to Bahamas
But my chain’s so lavish
TMZ be clacking
While they’re counting my karats
Louis Vuitton, straight from Kim Jones
“Ballin” like Jim Jones
You cannot come in my zone
Woah
Dior boys in Paris
Chilling with Kris Van Assche
White model bitch with ass
Let a Groovy nigga in it
Six cars, nigga winning
Big crib, tennis court
Half a million in the Porsche
Got a chopper on the porch
Backyard, the Bahamas
Palms trees and recliners
Got a Rolie for my Mama
Dime piece give me nana
Got a 9, nigga what?
Third strike in the bush
Couple grand on the front
Fell in love in the gut
Four mil’ in a month
Your career in a trunk
Last album, nigga was
Whole aisle full of duds
Album cover for the buzz
Put the Rolie in the bust
Money talking, nigga hush
Hit the plug, nigga walked off
Split the mil, nigga all four
Flippin’ hoes?, nigga what for?
Batman in the auto
I never been to Bahamas
A nigga done been to the projects
I used to catch licks in pajamas
Now I pull up in some Prada
Margiela man, cop a pair every weekend
Bad bitch, she says she’s Puerto Rican
Ice cold, diamonds look at me freezing
A hunnid bands, spend that shit up in Niemans
Bring them goons out
Pull up with them drugs and Smith & Wessons
It’s a shoot out
Taking trips, I can’t even hardly go to school now
I’m getting rich, bout to go and cop a Bentley coupe now
I’m spraying shit
Super soaker then dive in the pool now
I ain’t never been to Bahamas
I ain’t never broken a promise
I got a glock and a llama
I’m on the block with Obama
I’m on the coast with a goddess
There’s no way to find us, no way to find us
I’m on a boat to the tropics
Holding deposits, bulging my pockets