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 traction - the food chain

[hook]
don’t, don’t slip
keep it moving, i could never lose grip
traction
i can’t stop until i figure out something
i can’t stop until i hit the ground running
traction

[verse 1]
i’m getting traction now
just make sure the track is loud
so i can reenact my style
attract the crowd
now i’m feeling so legit
and now i’m with a smoking chick, she’s black and mild
had me on the straight and narrow, but i turned hard
on my talladega trying to burn hard
ever since chippendale i could earn hearts
then i learned not to work hard, work smart
then she said she’s really trying to get some action
you fish tail all over the track, huh
get it?
i finally found my traction
but i really spin, sl!ck, never crashed once
but i’m really sl!ck rick, with a patch
this is it, it’s a wrap, ever since i found my p-ssion
with this rap, snare, kick and hi-hat in this b-tch
give the track an -ssist, let the track run

[hook]

[verse 2]
my style readily flexed, heavily checked
divine, it’s heavenly sent
phonetically, poetically blessed
my timing couldn’t be worse, though
the game that raised me now putting out daisies on the daily
and what hurts most
i woke up late and missed the wake
i’m at the funeral like “who is these dancers?”
the others said the dad’s kids
all these lames married into the name
i say it plain, we ain’t family and this ain’t rap’s urinal
urinal’s a casket
makes me want to p-ss on his ashes for fathering these b-st-rds
and you can ?
they label me a hater, but i hate em
so i couldn’t put it straighter, toy rapper
tase em, douse them with a gas bath, shake em
make em play with these matches
let em burn slow, he-rs- closed, dirt throw
dead is you, real heads miss you

[hook]

[verse 3]
i pick it up like a baton and keep running
i ain’t got the time to tell you what i’m on, we keep buzzin
as i split the cigarillo down
so i can feel the sound
you hear the raspy in my voice
we the illest out
take a second as we pose for the cameras
and gaze at the future for ya, froze at the stanza
taking rappers out like a ?
then ? like brush strokes on the canvas
you can bet i’m never slippin’
treading on thin ice, but grippin like a ?
hundred miles an hour, in a thirty, i’m trippin
groupies on alert and in pursuit, i’m tryna ditch em
then take a breather
twist up a loud one
when they burn that ho scream like they seen a mouse, bruh
and i’ve seen your b-tch before
i think i took her out once
sent her home in the morning when i told her upfront, like…

[hook]

- the food chain

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS