Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Psycho’ by A$AP Ferg. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of A$AP Ferg or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Ah, yeah
Ah, it was all at the park
Colonial Liquor was his odor
The fragrance of a rider soldier
ODB was his persona
Oh you want the power?
I got an uncle and his name psycho
He had a dance and they scream “go psycho!”
He would dance, work out and fight your ass at the park
(For the bills, for the hundred dollar bills)
And he got two sisters preggo
He fucked the other one to get one jel-o
And he took both kids to the ghetto ass park
(On the hill, shit to get really rich)
He used to have the braids with the cuts in his body
Most stucked out, kept the hammer with his mommy
Grandma had the arthritis pain in her body
Kept the burner in the mattress, so her son don’t catch a body
Gassed and he danced, smoked crack with his posse
Front flipped through a building window, land in the lobby
He was cut like Bruce Lee but he didn’t know karate
He came home bloody screaming “nobody can stop me”
Nobody can stop me, I’m the baddest survivor on this planet
Fifty niggas better kill me, nigga cause I will do damage
Checked out the psych ward, I am nothing to manage
My life cut deep, nigga I’m nothing to bandage
I got an uncle and his name psycho
He had a dance and they scream “go psycho!”
He would dance, work out and fight your ass at the park
(For the bills, for the hundred dollar bills)
And he got two sisters preggo
He fucked the other one to get one jel-o
And he took both kids to the ghetto ass park
(On the hill, shit to get really rich)
Where they be drinking forty ounces
With the brown paper bags for the ounces
No matter what day you found his ass at the park
(Hungry Ham, f*ck around and get killed)
When he got kicked out of his bitch crib
And he had nowhere to lizz-ive
Always find his ass on the benches laying at the park
After dark
Don’t get it confused Uncle Psych, I love you to death
Just wanna get a couple of things off of my chest
Growing up you always was buck-wilding with stress
And though I’m older now, I don’t know how to forget
I used to wear your Timbs around the house when you left
And if you had an open soda, I would finish the rest
Pretend I’m older, I like the liquor odor you left
Then put your camouflage vest on like I’m holding a tec
Then point it at the mirror like I’m holding your rep
Though that mirror wasn’t me, but it was you I reflect
Wanted to be like you, jail tat on the chest
With the rugged cornrows and a stab on my neck