Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Leather Symphony’ by A$Ap Twelvyy. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of A$Ap Twelvyy or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
She just want me like a wedding ring
I keep her dripping like some fucking paint
Money real, I’m smoking hella green
So much ass like Teyana Taylor
Run a trap trying to make a milli
She make it clap trying to make a milli
Don’t lose yourself, remember who yourself
Don’t lose yourself, remember who the best
Take a dab, she got hella ass
I just smoke and I don’t never pass
All these niggas tryna be the man
I get green nigga, Peter Pan
Why they hating nigga I be living
Why they hating nigga I be pimpin’
Bad bitch looking so exquisite
Took a risk now the trip gon’ get it
Third eye feel like it’s on fire
Your niggas singing like they on the choir
Swisher blunts with Snoop Dogg
Dogg pound woof woof
No sound psh psh psh
Wipe me down ’cause I’m gorgeous
Ric Flair with The Horseman
What you bout man, quit talking
‘Bout that work, I’m like Fergie
My moms didn’t make it ’til 30
If I don’t make it, don’t worry
Zombie gang, we ain’t bury
Nigga always been a helping man
Don’t bite the hand that makes you understand
I might go loony catch you on the ‘Gram
Flipping shipping got a hundred grams
Bands, grams
Call it truce and do my dance
Why they copy, they just fans, yeah
On my momma I’m the man, yeah
Bands, grams
Count it, count it, got my hands full
All this working got my hands full
Why they hating like some damn fools
Bands, grams
Call it truce and do my dance
Why they copy, they just fans, yeah
On my momma I’m the man, yeah
Bands, grams
Count it, count it, got my hands full
All this working got my hands full
Why they hating like some damn fools
I’m a minute late, I’m a renegade
Twelvyy got a gauge
Let me penetrate
Pussy power KKK
Loaded it live, rock in my sock
Patrolling the block with a Glock
Stick to the code, bloody my O’s
Study my notes on the floor
Stuck on this odyssey
Alone I need privacy
Shooting my prophecy
Only I can see everything I can be
F*ck it I get it, I get it
I chronicle Riddick they couldn’t forget it
Planning is hella specific
Start the beginning, a Glorious Death for the ending
I can’t believe I existed
I’m ’bout to lead with a vision
I brought the heat to the kitchen
Y’all bout to sleep with the fishes
I run with the Pistons and beatin’ them kittens
Zombie the menaces, all of my nemesis
All on the premises
Brother got sentences
I’m moving sinister
Call in the defenses, Twelvyy ridiculous
Bands, grams
Call it truce and do my dance
Why they copy, they just fans, yeah
On my momma I’m the man, yeah
Bands, grams
Count it, count it, got my hands full
All this working got my hands full
Why they hating like some damn fools
Mecca like Malcolm
Biggie mundane
A$AP the cleanest
‘Wood in the Beamer
On Amsterdam
Feel like I’m Yams, can’t see me John Cena
Everything money and violence went to Flatbush for a nina
Live up on Lenox
Church Ave with the check
Made no casino, got dope in the ringo
We high like the Beatles
Album gon’ pop
Live on Atlantic
All over the planet
And Crooklyn we bandits and Harlem do damage
Bands, grams
Call it truce and do my dance
Why they copy, they just fans, yeah
On my momma I’m the man, yeah
Bands, grams
Count it, count it, got my hands full
All this working got my hands full
Why they hating like some damn fools
Bands, grams
Call it truce and do my dance
Why they copy, they just fans, yeah
On my momma I’m the man, yeah
Bands, grams
Count it, count it, got my hands full
All this working got my hands full
Why they hating like some damn fools