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

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Звук


Інтерфейс


Рівень складності


Акцент



мова інтерфейсу

uk

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
1
зареєструватись / увійти
Lyrkit

донат

5$

Lyrkit

донат

10$

Lyrkit

донат

20$

Lyrkit

Та/Або підтримай мене в соц. мережах:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Benny The Butcher

3 Missiles

 

3 Missiles

(альбом: My First Brick - 2016)


[Benny:]
Yeah, my first brick
It's Benny, Black Soprano Family
Trust gang, Griselda

Yo, uhh
There's quiet niggas who killers, so you don't know who with it
So if someobdy get hit, you don't know who did it
Extra long clip, that bitch shoot a whole two minutes
So go 'head, tint ya whip like we don't know you in it
Tell me fuck you gon' do when your options fail
A block from hell, bills coming, and your pockets frail?
You know what the fuck we did, we had rocks for sale
I had to grind, I got my family used to lobster tail
And if you brought enough cash, then the shop for sale
This Glock for sale, take it all, except the clientele
It's fucked up, I got a homie that's gon' die in jail
Then a few more homies that's gon' rot in hell
I'm a street nigga, only in the lab when it's slow
And it's funny how a friend can still pass for a foe
This rap shit inside us, we was lacking our fathers
We was trapping getting dollars, still attracted to violence
My plug covered the MAC, spent my cash with Verizon
Flipped my school cheque, taking classes in college
When it's time to go you gon' pass it or pop it
I still got a ratchet, a mask in the closet, nigga

[.38 Spesh:]
Ayo, I copped the Beamer with low mileage
I heard being broke by people don't get acknowledged
I sleep with an Ethiopian goddess
She help me count the money, then she go get the product
Spent 60 grand on a brick of diesel for dollars
I could've went legal, it's cheaper to get in college
A street scholar, AMG driver
A full fledged businessman with street knowledge
And I been like this since 2002
Counting through a million dollars, chilling in the Fountain Bleu
Hate when niggas say what they about to do
Deep inside really wish they had the same house as you
My weed the same color as Mountain Dew
I'm throwing money on the strippers and the bouncers too
I'm responsible for bringing ounces through
In the trap, whipping white girl like child abuse
Speak to fools your words less powerful
Jewels in the wrong hands became less valuable
Street nigga, balling like I catch alley-oops
Beach house with the ocean view out in Malibu
Really living when you got your favorite video vixen
And her best friend skinny dipping
I was really flipping, big city dripping
Re-up with everything on the road penny pinching, Trust

[Conway:]
Look, it's getting spookier and spookier
Fuck a drum, I've been writing missiles and they nuclear
Drop The Devil's Reject, they think I worship Lucifer
Nah, I'm the God, but the flow is getting stupider
Yeah, I just want my niggas here to prosper
You ain't seen better gun slingers since Aaron Rogers
Uhh, kick in the door, leave with every dollar
Balmain pierre collar, I ain't wearing Prada (woo!)
They might be tough, but we more vicious
Them niggas had new Jordans on, but we wore Christians
I came with two hoes, left the club with 3 more bitches
Know a nigga that got bodied day before Christmas
Uh, bulldog barking like a Cane Corso
Put all six bullets in the same torso
Uh, break a brick down, it came more so
Wig shot, close range'll do your brain awful
$650 for Camel Valentino
I'm that nigga now, ask Al and Preemo
So how we equal? The Devil's reject, boy, my style is evil
But in real life you know that I will leave you, Machine, boy
Rap money got me looking like I sling Boy
You better off just letting me do my thing, boy
'Cause all my youngins got sticks and let them ring, boy
Empty the whole magazine, boy
I brought the grimy back, stay out of my lane
I promise, I'll put a hollow tip inside of your brain
Ever since I got it popping, shit has not been a game
Rap nigga come to my city say goodbye to his chain
He gotta run that, grimiest of all time, I won that
Might park a foreign outside where I used to pump at
My youngin just got a new blicky he wanna dump that
He waiting on that green light, I promise you don't want that, nigga

готово

Ти додав собі всі незнайомі слова із цієї пісні?