a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de rated oakland (jamla is the squad) - gq

[verse]
sh-t, we still talkin’ bout old sh-t?
my daddy had the firebird, lookin’ at old pics
i’m off for school, hand on the wheel with a cold grip
me and my n-gga lookin’ for some hoes that roll quick and pole flip
i guess we on the road again
receiving bullsh-t texts i’ll probly go and smoke again
another night, and a life i’m tryna be important in
i can’t bottle these feelings need something to pour it in
jump roping on the ledge of a building in roller blades
even if i do slip it’ll take me a couple days
cause on the way down i’m flipping off everybody that let me drop
i’m gon’ k!ll ‘em, videotape it and make em watch
circle the block, 3:46 no time wasted
before he shot communicated in sign language
i’m on a road i never been on
ironically i know my way around so let me spin on professional
up in a room i play a tune from my macbook
f-ck a white glove i leave prints like bad crooks
i’m in a nightmare, me and [?] walk into a place i never been to
everybody’ll get you
pay a price and then leave like a movie you can’t sit through
n-ggas can’t rap why the f-ck they even attempt to?
bodies of water can’t swim through, call colombus
my phone broke i’m robbin’ banks lookin’ for numbers
only working for summers, b-tches with bad bodies
the car crash ain’t hurt, but sh-t the cl-ss got me
where’s rocky when bullwinkle be bullsh-ttin’?
i see demons on my timeline pull-pittin’
i told 9th i’m in full rhythm i told phil i got this
so if you want a sub in the pool pimpin’
rock-a-bye baby me and my lady be fly high
twisted, we hippies in the sixties wearin’ tie-dye
cut the parachute and tell em “skydive”
a angel outside of the gate waving at me every time i fly by
my first 48 k’s turn to a sci-fi
another letter to open, that’s word to cyhi, i mean that’s word to ca$h
verbalizing that high five what up to hu rockin’ umbrellas in the ma-tai
that’s bottom sh-t, somewhere probly hanging like bottom lips
on the top floor getting top from your bottom b-tch
no second round, not even a bottom pick
every pit that i fall in is bottomless
tell me what your problem is?
when i die will my city throw a party as big as christopher wallace’s?
i need more than sixteen, feelin’ like andre
death threats was just a side, now for the entree
from treetopping to box to bombay
like how the f-ck he go from sean may to kanye?
oakland n-gga

- gq

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS