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letra de pacers - crimeapple

pacers lyrics
[intro]
listen
take this (come on, man)
come on, please
tu me conoces (you know how this works, man)
pero tu me conoces
woah

[verse 1]
you can’t short me for the pierogi (nah)
your head is light, you bear for life like charles oakley (f-ck outta here)
smack the stogie off his rotten tooth (ayo)
take a couple cash calls, i’m back to choppin’ fruit (woah)
brought the goose to the clubhouse, sm-t the duck out
get the f-ck out, threw the nut out
pull the truck out, real ones couldn’t wait for this sh-t to come out
i’m spittin’ like the dugout, most rappers handicapped (woah)
worldstar captions like, “jimmy vs. timmy wright”
i’m viewed in a different light, coffin all kryptonite
your chick love the sh-t i write, you pillow talk, we pillow fight
ball like armadillo, temperamental, switch the color scheme
from baby blue to money green, white gold on my bunny t–th
gimme alll the carrots, lil’ buster
bugs and daffy on ya sweater, metralleta on the mesh now (grrrt)
steppin’ on that thing like it’s a stepchild
[chorus]
but let’s keep that on a need-to-know (shhhh)
call the d’s up like that’s a pick and roll
i’ll prolly still drop the nickel, though (nickel though)
you f-ckin’ round and miss the finger roll (miss the finger roll)
more mercy, that’s every bar i write
cross you in the garden with the hardest nights (hardest nights)
shootin’ like reggie, no regard for spite
i f-ck around and shoot out your lights (yikes)

[verse 2]
soundin’ like i’m on the cusp
used to sprinkle rix mix in the dutch, blowin’ kisses at my crush
i don’t get goosebumps, used to pray we made enough for a deuce lunch
then it was 40s dumped in ya fruit punch, don’t mistake my jovial nature
i switch my face up, we came for acres off the nomenclature (right)
opposition wanna see me in a steel container (right)
or a wooden one
he put that thing in his vein, ’cause i was cookin’ some
gave my friend great advice, like “don’t f-ck with this”
now he live outside the store and his stomach itch
dirty [?] he made his mother sick (hehe)
seen him recently, he smilin’ like “what’s up witchu?”
nothin’ much, my pen move like kim jong with a [?]
he said “cool”, i gave him loot, said “do what you do”
he went to cop some dog food from my man lou
ooh
[chorus]
ayo, you snoozin’, what you thinkin’ bruh?
play the d up and do the pick and roll
i’ll prolly still drop the nickel, though (nickel though)
you f-ckin’ round and miss the finger roll (miss the finger roll)
more mercy, that’s every bar i write
cross you in the garden with the hardest nights (hardest nights)
shootin’ like reggie, no regard for spite
i f-ck around and shoot out your lights (yikes)

- crimeapple

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