Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Yuck’ by 2 Chainz. 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 2 Chainz or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Yuck, daddy
Yuck, daddy
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 flex 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 gang, all-black Ferrari
His and her Armani, put it in her tummy
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 f*ck that
Nigga, I’m so dope, you could catch a fuckin’ contact
Good weed, bad bitch
Got these hoes on my dick like Brad Pitt
Whoa, I seen it all before
The bitch got a man, but she schemin’ on the low
How it go? It go, f*ck them other niggas cause I’m down for my niggas
My homies got the blickers, automatics, no clickers
Huh? Codeine, no liquor
Man, life is a bitch, mine is a gold digger
I’m fucked, let’s f*ck
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
Yeah, I got the chopper for the correspondents
The codeine 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, we ain’t never left, hollerin’ “we back”
All this ice on me and my niggas playing freeze tag
Lord, forgive me, this my fourth foreign
If your 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 tool
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 hoe 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, mwah
Good weed, bad bitch
Got these hoes on my dick like Brad Pitt
Whoa, I seen it all before
The bitch got a man, but she schemin’ on the low
How it go? It go, f*ck them other niggas cause I’m down for my niggas
My homies got the blickers, automatics, no clickers
Huh? Codeine, no liquor
Man, life is a bitch, mine is a gold digger
I’m fucked, let’s f*ck
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