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

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
CEO Trayle

Made 4 It

 

Made 4 It

(album: 1080 Trademark Records Presents: CEO Trayle - 2020)


(Hold up, Spiffy on this motherfucker)
Ayy
(Damn, Highxlass, I need this one)
Yeah

I was made for it
You ain't earning that respect, lil' nigga, you paid for it
Nigga, this AP fit my wrist 'cause it was made for it
I ain't never worked a day shift, I worked the graveyard
Saw my daddy do it, so it had turned me to a druglord
What you think I'm in Miami meeting with the plug for?
But that wasn't my real daddy, that's my big sister daddy
They know I was still outside all by myself, turned to a savage
Unless it's Louis Vuitton luggage, then this bitch got too much baggage

My bitch ass so fat, but I'm the only nigga who gon' grab it, ayy
When they had spinned that block, we was the only ones knew what happened
Police asked us 'bout it, swear to God I don't know what happened
Lying for my niggas, dying for 'em, uh
We was all broke, laced up my boots, do crime for 'em
My brother gone, and to this day, I still be sliding for him
R.I.P. Reckless, keep that name alive
This shit been dangerous, they swear this shit so dangerous now
You know I'm a Perky popping lean pourer
I was saying free Yak for four, five years until they let him go
Talking bad, headshot through his dome, now he a vegetable
Never leave my brothers, especially 'cause I'm next to blow
Top five at all these labels, but I'm not five, three, or four
And they don't love me for real, act like I don't need to know
Nigga, go kill somebody, can't afford to have no even score
Long nights, just me and Olay in that kitchen by that stove
I think that's the same reason why his daughter like my daughter
We in Camp Creek like the Carter 'til I'm rich like Shawn Carter
Caught a body, went on a vacay in Florida
Ayy, 'member they creeped around the block, had to spray the Impala
Ayy, I was driving NayNay car, Glock in my hand, no glove compartment
Finna give so much of this shit back just 'cause I love the 'partments
Pray that the Lord forgive my sins as I load the cartridge
And if he ain't dead, spin back around again and finish sparking
Got my lil' brothers with me, now I can get these bitches off me
I was made for it
Nigga, this Cuban around my neck like it was made for it
Feed your shooters or you gon' be they feast on day four
Looking at me crazy like, "What he need his K for?"

I was made for it
You ain't earning that respect, lil' nigga, you paid for it
Nigga, this AP fit my wrist 'cause it was made for it
I ain't never worked a day shift, I worked the graveyard
Saw my daddy do it, so it had turned me to a druglord
What you think I'm in Miami meeting with the plug for?
But that wasn't my real daddy, that's my big sister daddy
They know I was still outside all by myself, turned to a savage
Unless it's Louis Vuitton luggage, then this bitch got too much baggage

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?