Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Klang


Schnittstelle


Schwierigkeitsgrad


Akzent



Schnittstellensprache

de

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
1
registrieren / anmelden
Lyrkit

spenden

5$

Lyrkit

spenden

10$

Lyrkit

spenden

20$

Lyrkit

Und/oder mich im sozialen Bereich unterstützen. Netzwerke:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Earl Sweatshirt

AM // Radio

 

AM // Radio

(Album: I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside - 2015)


[Wiki:]
Nineteen, still getting kicked out the crib
Ripped off my bib, spit out my food, hiccup and piss
Urine burning, I could smell the liquor in this
Cats always tryna' pick up the fist
Duff this dude out
Rappers stoop just to get to your crib
Now it's like who's face? who's warped? too sauced
Distort thoughts, on my corpse on the asphalt
Back when I'd slack more, rock my slacks or my ass
Everytime, I rap I blast-off
Back when I catch Cor', I always had Sports
Dipping on cops in my track shorts
So tell my mom I had to make it right
I lie every night about the lime-light so I could lie at night
And tell my Pops' I gotta' take advice
Keep my head screwed on tight, abuse these mics
See me, I'm the contusion type
A cat to smack a mic and catch my fucking hair when I'm losing height
Ratking, never losing hype, no
It's Ratking and I do it right
Ratking, yeah, I do it nice, woah

[Earl Sweatshirt:]
Bitch, I skated before I rapped, if you take me before your captain
Bet twenty hots on your Daddy
[?], probably cold and passive
Cause' Pops' was the one that got to me
Feeling down like he passed it and when I'm cornered, it's action
I was kinda' out the game, I'ma put the quarter right back in the slot
In 09', we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the block
Bitch, if yo' nigga had Supreme, we was the reason he copped it
And nowadays, I'm on the hunt for lyrics to box with
And some pretty bitches that ain't trip if it's a hit and run
I got the gold cause' I don't do the crying bro
She Mario, I'm tryna' keep the whining to a minimum
Piggies come, bet i'm splitting quicker than I finish rum
Find me some Indica, nuggets on my fingers and my shirt like they was chicken crumbs
The room spinning, finna' yak if I don't hit the blunt
Got the chin wagon, slim chances of me getting up
After this, mind in the trash next to where my fucking passion went
Doc's fanatics, half-a-Xanax when I'm traveling six hours or more
Brick out on the tour, got kicked out of the morgue
Spit cattle manure shit, shit, rally the Horsemen
Tally the corpses

Erledigt

Hast du alle unbekannten Wörter aus diesem Lied hinzugefügt?