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
The Specktators

Proving Ground (Interlude)

 

Proving Ground (Interlude)


Look
I try to be fly, I try to be floss
I can't speak intern
I try to be boss
The problem is, life's like Twitter
Everyone's a follower
And we're always running out of characters
So I'mma be a breath of fresh air for you, inhale
Name a rapper with more bars who's not in jail
I drop on any mix like it's half white, half black
Run through lines like a mad type, halfback
Snap from the track like the center in a shotgun
My flow's rare, it's not done
You got ice man, I'm top gun
You got ice man, I'm top gun
This is that heart attack flow
Yeah, that hot sauce
Never had a shark attack, yo, but I drop jaws
Wait stop pause, let me tell you something funny, uh
When someone with no dough raps about all their money
Stop lying, you ain't rich dummy
I already know you're good for nothing like your chicks tell me
Yeah

Let it ride, I'mma keep going
I got one more

Don't even hit nofe[?]
Don't flip like
Uh
I kinda like that acapella shit
I give all my work for free, I don't sell a bit either
Your girl works for me, she ain't sell a bit neither
Sometimes I'm on that mellow shit
Tonight I brought the fellows wit
But I don't need no fellowship to tell I'm sick, hell'o quit, yeah
Who am I, just a common attraction
On top of my bars, numerator of the fractions, yeah
They say I'm too pop, too electronic
I say I'm too hot and I'm too chronic
You ain't no 2Pac, yo dufonics
You think your shit's sick, then I'll poop on it
I got that bubonic, that contagious shit
I got that high caging, engaging shit
Set fire to the page and the stage and shit
But still, still
It's hard for me to get a break knowing that I can't stop
Hard for me to take charge knowing that I can't flop
Got a foot in the door, but I'm never a shoe in
There's still a lot of people who haven't been clued in-to the movement
The plan, the blueprint for improvement
Sit back, relax, and I'll prove it
Yeah, that's the proof
Right

fait

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