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 blue soul - ¡mayday!

[verse 1: bernz]
welcom to the morro, where it’s all smoke and mirrors
the future’s hazy, but i couldn’t see it clearer
turned off the radio, and let my dial pivot
when i hear these weed cooks and those p-ssy -ss lyrics
you see we always onto something
acted on a hunch, and now all the fun’s been corrupted
fabricated rock stars keep their money pumpin’
till they make the next clone, and then [?] for the budget
only a handful on the level
drawing past the lines, ripping up the teacher’s tensils
up in vice city where the devil drive a rental
and these sketches lost angels with their number two pencil
the medication’s transcendental
don’t ask me where i got it, i ain’t found it in a temple
took a couple tokes, and created something special
just to keep away the devil away from my soul on [?]

[hook: murs]
put your motherf-cking hands up
and all the real n-ggas stand up
said put your motherf-cking hands up
now all the real n-ggas stand up

[verse 2: murs]
someone tell that n-gga danger mouse, he owe me a beat
a 2500 when i see him on the street
i used to have this condo out in southbeach
back when plex, wrek and bernz was all signed to south b
hopped out of bed this morning, put my cape on
took a shower, put my 2pac tape on
[?] drawers, with some fresh bathing apes on
i’m lookin’ fly, feelin’ like my old [?] song
murs for president, the campaign
in the vip, bud light, f-ck the champagne
blue flannel b-tton at the top with the white t
leanin’ like a cholo in my 60 dollar nike
cortèz cleaner than the p-ssy on a p-rnstar
only f-ckin’ chicks missionary, you’s a [?]
i tried to warn y’all, you gotta pay your dues, man
tryna make some babies, while i’m f-ckin’ hoes to wu-tang

[hook: murs]
put your motherf-cking hands up
and all the real n-ggas stand up
said put your motherf-cking hands up
now all the real n-ggas stand up

[verse 3: wrekonize]
peter piper paced a pack of peppers called sriracha
and broke it down into a fifth of vodka, i got ya
blood moons and criptic messages fill up a precedence
the mic just make you second guess the place you take a precedence
comin’ from rock bottom, aomi
headin’ west to scoop murs up in a pink semi
shots poured, sippin’ on a mezcal mule
skipped cl-ss, them highs and lows, ferris wheel bueller
keep the palm that’s known to break bones in every state home
across the mississippi, they know we bring the gray tones
and that’s just why we keep on droppin’ like an elevator
then pumpin ‘sh-t back up, just like a respirator
simpleton flows catch on the accolades
just in time to sit the family down for my matinée
see something fierce is brewing in my soul
but it keeps on bubblin’, so [?] like

[hook: murs]
put your motherf-cking hands up
and all the real n-ggas stand up
said put your motherf-cking hands up
now all the real n-ggas stand up

- mayday

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS