The Era

(альбом: The Mink Coat Killa (The Lost 4) - 2020)

Uh, bitch I'm on a paper chase
Blade underneath the bait
Shut up bitch and eat the cake
My little niggas squeeze the 'K
I don't like the way the Yeezy's 350's fit me
I know G's in Mississippi, bitches sipping [?] with me
Paint the sky with brain matter
Whip the foreign like a slave master
The Wraith way faster, haters throwing shade at you
Bad hoes, tanning on the patio
I go pistachio for the dough and the flashy clothes
I fly like a Harlem nigga, I need all them figures
You know the guy to call a nigga if I got a problem with you
Give me two feet, these niggas too sweet
I'm with my bitch at the boutiques
Every week cos she a shoe freak
Yeah, I break bread while my niggas shake feds
My iced up braclet, they washed up like K. Fed
Hasta luego, was jealous cos Drake was fucking with J. Lo
OG Bobby J put the barrel in the potato

I'm not from a era with no motherfucking clowns
No I come from a era where you had to hold it down
And if you couldn't spit it when you did it then the realest wouldn't let you come around, let you come around
No I'm not with them weirdo rapper that rock them gowns
And all that fuck shit that misrepresent the town
I'm from that Cuban link chain and solid gold fangs
You know it when you hear the sound (Hey, hey)

I'm tryna fuck a pop star before I'm 40
Getting money like I'm Berry Gordy
Only women at every orgy these whores adore me
Pouring 40's for all my niggas in the dirt
Bitches sniff a ball of white I told her stick that in your purse
[?] spoiled with luxury gifts, fuck with me bitch
Keep on sucking this dick, you get a luxury six (SIKE)
They suffered in the Reagan era, it was blatant terror
Camouflaged hoodies out in Cuba like I'm Che Guevara
I'm just a southern nigga with a Queens flow
Vintage supreme coats, can't talk if your team broke, listen
Niggas that prey on him I pray for them
Metal to your cranium I'm sailing the Mediterranean
Bumping old [?] money like old Jews
Never did shit for me so bitch I don't owe you
Ay listen, razor in my mouth like Pac on the court
My nigga just popped out the court
So now we poppin the court

I'm not from a era with no motherfucking clowns
No I come from a era where you had to hold it down
And if you couldn't spit it when you did it then the realest wouldn't let you come around, let you come around
No I'm not with them weirdo rapper that rock them gowns
And all that fuck shit that misrepresent the town
I'm from that Cuban link chain and solid gold fangs
You know it when you hear the sound (Hey, hey)