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letra de what up - dey/ kon

[hook 1: dey bishop]
got lots to feel, mental full of stress
pop a pill to stop the thrill, menthol for the stress
what up, hey, what up, hey
all out of matches need to match up the stress
hit the local man, need a bag of the best
what up, what up

[verse 1: dey bishop]
from horses and carriages to porsches the average is four or more samaritans floored when the cannon spit
poor as moors in the vatican, resources sourced to snorting purer than the lord of the aryans
love my people though the steeple looks abandoned and
wax folds or raps flowed the backbone to flashing it
dream to drop a hook and get that grammy board asking
‘do you want the nomination’, facing ls while i’m laughing
ugh, that’s just a pipe dream when life seems a dead end
when selling white to fiends is a nice scene to get bread
i had a dream, ha, and its still its brewing clear
i met pac hes stopped and asked what i’m doing here
i said you soon to hear
a foolish fear, so i’m liable to rival idols in bibles and stifle a writer that choose to near my crew in here
trapbang, your truest fear
and motherf-ck the world, its just a stupid sphere
excuse me dear, i’m busy facing this toxin
in this h-e-l-l dealing h is an option
and school can give a f-ck, so with the crew we live it up
got that brew up in my cup, hope to leave the bay in the hospice

[hook 1: dey bishop]
[hook 2: dey bishop]
got lots to feel, mental full of stress
pop a pill to stop the thrill, menthol for the stress
what up, hey, what up, hey
found myself a match, about to match up the stress
f-ck the local man, he can keep him the cess
what up, what up

[verse 2: dey bishop]
dey bishop he, sits awake and merrily hates
then spits flame like he kerosene laced the swisher sweet
dey bishop, -ssed out on the floor
cheetohs in his left hand, p-ssed out with a ho
momma tell me get a plan, i’m zanned out by the door
not with a theft record, so stage left exit
my pay check it, hand outs and zeros
reminiscing as a child nagasaki off the swing set
like i’m a kamikaze just ain’t got my wings yet
back when where mommy was the only stress
now its liquor tummies and menthol breath
feeling like a zombie with mental stress like
like i don’t know my dads sick, i’m aware hes numb
he’d rather lie to my face instead of scaring his son
is that incredible deceit or the most bearing love
so i just retreat, be there and act dumb
ha, and these rappers claiming they real
sign a soul away, and hope and pray for a deal
fv’ll say i don’t post enough dates
i got homies overdosing, f-ck a status update
i ain’t laughing up fakes, i ain’t stacking up plates
so ‘oh, heres my soundcloud’, i view that as a buffet
ha, at the laundromat with the fiends
a numb insomniac steady chasing the dream
its dey

- dey kon

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