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letra de war mode - van buren records

[verse 1: saint lyor]
i done f-cked up my liver, oh sh-t
got the burner inside of my hood
the bag keep growing its legs
i’ma chop it down like i’m a cook
i don’t f-ck with these n-ggas at all
i’ma put em inside of a ‘wood
i’m a rebel moving without cause
i don’t care about cost or the price
one mistake and we takin’ his life
after that, then we f-ckin’ his wife
i been grippin’ and huggin’ the curb
i been saving up for a new life
’cause this sh-t, it sucks, it’s f-cking me up
my lungs is dust, i’m poor as f-ck
my belly keep talkin’, it’s waking me up
i gotta get mine, it’s the first of the month
it’s me versus me, so we runnin’ it up
poor as f-ck, you poor thing
i don’t give a f-ck what these wh0res think
i’m a feminist, n-ggas ain’t payin’ for sh-t
i went in the club and they playin’ my d-ck
you know most of these n-ggas, they give me the ick
so that’s why i gotta go stay with my stick
my stick, my stick, my brand new stick
i f-ck with her tough, so i bought her some tits
i went to lagos and copped me a crib
i’m in the industry, it’s full of pigs
when i k!ll ’em all off, i’ma k!ll ’em again
one, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero
i knew i was god even when i was one-years-old
[chorus: saint lyor]
(poor thing)
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode
(poor thing)
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode
(poor thing)
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode
(poor thing)
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode

[verse 2: jiles]
hunger pains, i check the fridge, there’s nothing in it
aunty slid me twenty, said hide it before your mama spend it
rent-a-center knockin’ at the door ’cause the couch was rented
store run, cop a cam, my pops running outta minutes
gap tooth, runnin’ through the east like lebron in cleveland
h-lla deep with guns inside the venue, feel like gilbert arenas
shorty pushing b-ttons inside the foreign like there goes the ceiling
jugg taking long to come outside, got an uneasy feeling
gang here
brodie on the wings serving chicken like it’s popeyes
this get back sh-t is like a sport, we doing high-fives
broski was the shooter and the driver in that drive-by
back then when n-ggas yelled chirp, you wasn’t outside
i860 on my hip, n-ggas couldn’t tell me nothin’
back then, it was one-on-ones before we had a gun
flip this and flip that
give thanks and give back
my gift of gab got gift wrapped
that stove sound, that tick-tick
n-ggas talking they big sh-t
bragging ’bout what we been did
won’t never fold, ain’t no bending
new deal still pending
my skin glowing, got my pennet
we running n-ggas for they tennis
i own the sh-t, i ain’t no tenet
tedd boyd, he a chemist (yeah)
[chorus: saint lyor]
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode
(poor thing)
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode
(poor thing)
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode
(poor thing)
please don’t make me go war mode
please don’t make me go war mode, war mode

[verse 3: saint lyor]
like, dog, pay attention, i mean what’s really at stake?
if numbers is premeditated, who deserve to be great?
i always knew sh-t was fake
but when you in the inside, there’s a decision to be made
you could ignore all the bullsh-t or look it in its face
but i’d rather go on cheap dates
every day, i’m picking another b-tch’s brain
twenty-three summers and i still ain’t go insane
a terrible diet, survivin’ off minimum wage
i’m from the 508, my face made the front page
every link-up is like worship and praise
my brother bring the drums and the sticks every day
every, every, every, every day
every, every, every, every day
my brother bring drums and the sticks every day
[verse 4: felix]
been through some things and to this day, can’t feel my face
stuck in my ways, i’il break a face, man, could you face it?
darker days of sweeter pain, the tints painted
what could i say? just love the taste of confrontation
maybe it’s the way that half these n-ggas pump fakin’
maybe it’s the rage up in me, need a place to place it
i lived twenty-something odd years frustrated
forty bad hoes in one room, get in formation
the heartbreaking and the sh-t i did left mom in awe
your happy home was somewhat tainted by a troubled son
before any glimpse of consciousness, was fighting out the womb
told me that they kicked me out the daycare every month
war mode
ko when i rush you, it get ugly
it’s war mode
where i’m from, they’ll chop you for a onion
it’s war mode
okay, l’il stop before sh-t get redundant

- van buren records

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