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
Shotta Spence

Word Of Mouth

 

Word Of Mouth

(album: 1012 - 2019)


Shotta Spence
Von Vuai
Take no talk from no boy
I'll never live on my knees, I'm dying on my feet
I'll never flee never flee

Everywhere I step I'm stepping with precision
Move in silence, all you hearing is the crickets
Spirit of Malcolm X, by any means I'm getting
Stirring the pot up 'til my wrist bone get to clicking
Stomach is growling, it sound like a hoopty engine
I'm praying to God but my actions ain't so Christian
Gimme the throat, I don't need no lip service from bitches
I told the bitch stop using your teeth, that's cannibalistic
Work it work it ooh, pulling up on you
Where you at, give me your longitude and latitude
This a fucking coupe, ain't no room for you
Tell your friends you gotta Uber back to the zoo
I'm a warrior, got some shooters on my team
I'm a player for life, bitches hanging off my jeans
Know I did some people wrong but that's how it had to be
Lord lord lord, save some room for me

Watch out
Gucci Timberlands, I slip my feet in them
2008 Bape and APC denim
Feel my palms itching like they got fleas in them
When I get them Rollies believe I'm freezing them
Ball out little homie, ball it out
Call out fake hustlers, call 'em out
Put your guard up, ain't no time to talk it out
How do I know where you live, hmm, word of mouth
I might OD, might OD off this mighty weed
You take a pull you gon' go, that's some gasoline
You can count on me to count the green while they counting sheep
You want surf and turf, I'm too cheap, you get Mickey D's
You know that your boys witcha, if they gon' bleed witcha
If they get money witcha, if they don't chief swishers
And they not team switching, whenever the plot thickens
And they would rather take a sentence 'fore they start snitching
Wanna know who done got my homie shot
That shit tied my gut in knots
Pull up on that pussyclaat, put his face to the curb and stomp
Life is short and then you're gone, so I keep my money long
Reason why I wrote this song, reason why I'm stunting on 'em

fait

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