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

Son


Interface


Niveau de difficulté


Accent



langue de l'interface

fr

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Politique de cookies   |   Soutien   |   FAQ
1
s'inscrire / se connecter
Lyrkit

faire un don

5$

Lyrkit

faire un don

10$

Lyrkit

faire un don

20$

Lyrkit

Et/Ou soutenez-moi sur les réseaux sociaux. réseaux:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Sauce Walka

Wicked Child

 

Wicked Child

(album: Sauce Ghetto Gospel 3 - 2022)


Oowee
Oowee
Shit don't make no motherfucking sense

How many young niggas I gotta leave I wanted to see win?
How many niggas I used to love deserve to die again?
They family might have to cry again
I flyed again
Semi-automatics on my side again
I dived and sinned, it wasn't my choice, I'm from the ocean, I had to swim
I never left my shooters any time we was outside the gym
They in the game, I'm in the game, we all gon' guard the rim
We not like them
At least I thought until the bread got slim
You know it's always that one lil' roach you can't catch at the crib
They take your ribs
Right under your arms with you making deals
Nigga can't trust his sister in this field, let alone a nigga
Rappers selling they souls for whips to slave owners, nigga
Sit on the same corners in hoods that they ain't owning, nigga
Niggas triple crossing they homies, they tried to show 'em bigger
But scared of the police of the police officer that brutalized his lil' sister
Buddy drinking liquor like that shit gon' fix something quicker
Broke without no job, he ready to rob something, shit, it's Christmas
Gotta have three guns on you nowadays, can't be defenseless
Niggas out here sixteen years old riding with army switches
Delete the hisses
It's snakes around, don't let 'em slime in your business
We keeping cutters for reptiles, we tryna design new tennis
Tryna step on snakeskin
Leave that lazy-ass bitch if she ain't bringing no cake in
Somebody when viral for buying designer for they baby that came in
A week later, it's all on Twitter that that baby ain't his
Shit
Gotta leave that bitch
For real
I'm leaving every poisonous thing that's in my direction
I'm off that drank, I'm in that gym, my body is perfection
I'm punching as if I'm in Tekken
I built the weapon
It's to the goal, it ain't no interceptions
We up eleven
Check the scoreboard, who up in Heaven?
We got y'all spending a lot of time with reverends
Buddy done died for something you ain't repping

Yeah

fait

Avez-vous ajouté tous les mots inconnus de cette chanson ?