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letra de serious face - praisethechords, estee nack & bub styles

[intro: estee nack]
ayo, yo, yo
que lo que lo que el otro dice, yeah, yeah
doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot
matrix, world’s greatest, son (you gotta put the serious face on)
you know this sh-t serious business, my man
these cats are disgraceful, man (f-ckin’ lame)
you know what i’m sayin’? i come to clarify the confusion (make the knowledge known)
nackman (e lo daddy)

[verse 1: estee nack]
soul-bopper (novela), helicopter
john stockton pass, h-lla proper
chewbacca (monster), el señor doctor, wine-cellar popper (poppin’ bottles)
flyin’ saucer, inhale the rasta spliff
feel the ganja, bon jovi hits hard enough to swell the box up (toma)
f-ck the real imposters (who’s that?)
he’s a n0body, blow the shotty, probably wipe out the whole party
you ain’t gettin’ no sorry (k!ll you)
unapologetic, collectin’ dough probably (cash)
swipin’ the gold card (ching), three-dimension dinners at polcari’s
the most godly, atari, superstar presence, i’m bob marley
sin city safari, consigliere
tom hagen advise me to break the bar in (mami)
john gotti (boss), new ferrari, gainin’ on the illuminati
you wonderin’ who could try me, i’m polished (bling-bling-bling)
top brass, goofy, slide me the wallets (give me that)
we too fly for you pilots
evolve white in the dollar bills (trap)
can’t trust ’em, they might be dishonest (true)
like the time i made your wifey that promise
[interlude: crimeapple]
ay-yay-yay
we livin’ this sh-t, huh
most of these motherf-ckin’ rappers is rappin’ ’bout it, huh (woah)
woah

[verse 2: crimeapple]
you see me, we gettin’ cheddar, combato in buenos aires, talkin’ what’s the prices like (papa)
denominations of the stack, f-ck what the height is (grrt, bing)
sportin’ italian ices like, “what the heist is?” (bing-bing-bing-bing-bing)
12 tapped in, in fact, i didn’t write this
hyphen, the clique is miceless, i will never revisit crisis
these boots was formerly bison, i throw the dice in
i got a side b-tch who engage through a tidin’, tennessee titans (ay-yay-yay)
i’m lightin’ this one off the strength, just booked the studio time
they on the bench ’til they bars say-so, then they can move off the pine
i’m rude off the dime (uh-huh), i’m nice off the ace, i shoot off the guaro
patos in tecatos singin mariah, narcos carve my faces and k!ll ’em in giro (toma)
feelin’ the cargo, sh-t in the console’ll give ’em a barcode (toma)
starvin’ the opposition, y’all ain’t eatin’
listen, this an embargo
bismillah flow, broke it down and got rich in the congo (uh-huha)
fits for the downpour, soon ten fifties for the poncho (uh-huh)
hittin’ l!cks in the town more, dirty snow then switch to the brown salt (switchin’)
tell me if everyone actually ballin’, who really bounce more?
[interlude: crimeapple & bub styles]
woadie (woof)
cold cut king of this whole sh-t (this whole sh-t, this whole sh-t)
it’s funny, all these years later i’m still havin’ flashbacks (what’s wrong with me?)
i need therapy (told ’em “no”, cold cut king of this sh-t)
yo

[verse 3: bub styles]
michelin star dinner, got my eyes on the entrance (who’s that?)
got my rise on the benches, from positive stenches to pies in the trenches (woof)
tuh, very odd resemblance when my guys in attendance
you can tell my cartis not prescriptioned by the size of the lenses (look at these things)
these eighteen carats from the turkish mountains (bling)
the threat count match the price of purps and ounces
b-tches on tour lookin’ at the bull like a first encounter (who is that?)
perfect downers, had her twerkin’ on the kitchen counter (look at your b-tch)
the ones that never do sh-t scream the loudest threats (p-ssy)
the plug get worried when i go a week without a text (hit me back)
the wildest flexes, daddy really need me to make the powder stretch
papi, that bacalao gave you sour breath, all due respect (ew)
my dudes is reckless, dookie necklace
foolish gucci suit and the coupe is precious
smokin’ loosies on the groupie’s stoop in texas (what’s up with your b-tch?)
the b-tch f-ck with both s-xes but the jealous type (yuck)
only way she get me if the fellas piped (that’s it)
[outro: bub styles]
and i’m not smashin’ after the bros (i’m not doin’ it)
i’m not doin’ it, i say that so we can get all away, but i’m not doin’ it
i’m not smashin’ after the bros, i need my own sh-t (i’m sorry, but listen)
but shout out to team players and all that
cold cut king of this whole sh-t, boy’s hood (woof, cold cut)

- praisethechords estee nack bub styles

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