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letra de survivor stories, pt. 2 - youngs teflon

[intro]
lights out

[verse 1]
air max classics on the treadmill
my closest friends in the jail or they dead still
i miss my brother s he was dead real
sometimes i wish they shot him in the head still
cause man of honour die young and leave a legacies
but cowards die a thousand times with no melodies
i drown my soul in the bottom of this henessey
i been a rascal im tryna be the better me
3 piece suits, 38’s and a doobie’s rolled
they can’t tell if it’s a wedding or a funeral
had the motorolla selling cards like yugi-oh
i go on dates same way i dress for studio
my big cousin all he did was stay fly and rob
take trips and get visits from the flying squad
we buy sticks but pops told me i should ride with god
hundred shot clips you don’t wanna try the mob
im lucky luciano in a silk suit (that’s mafia)
pow 45 looking like a milk tube
before the youtube i was on cam
had a rollie on my arm with a sun tab
now i got models on my gram given poses
i tell em come around and split it like moses
only time my garden was community service
she still find me in the corner where the hose is
im living like a rockstar but i post alone
and i dun wrapped more white than post malone
live hammers i dun seen more than 21
gun salute for the g’s been a heavy run
im filling up my gas tank with fire water
this whole thing ain’t enough i need a higher order
when i was tryna buy a corsa i was buying quarters
i gotta buy my mum a house before a flying saucer
they just copy what i say they some raw parrots
im still at it, uptown they some lil barrett
she got a job in the city but she still ratchet
we on license of bell but we still packin
them young ninjas round me they on no chattins
something like the white rangey with the gold daggers
cut-throat savage they ain’t got no manners (now what’d ya say yah)
that could mean raw stabbins
callin in the cut with my consigliere
but i was sittin in the jail with fake millionaires
you know them man with a mansion on the roads
but couldn’t even put a fiver on the phones
dior runnins i remember having poor summers
swear we hating by the law but the lord love us
central heating broken we ain’t have no floor covers, so we order hundred pound steak with no sauce on it
hustlers don’t die they just take breaks
how many rich dummies did the jakes take
took his freedom all you ever said was freedom you ain’t never sending p’s or go see em oh you fake fake
im lost in a fake world full of egos
up early in the morning like ero
all i ever wanted was some nikes and some kilos don’t ask me how i turned into this neighbourhood hero

[outro]
creative intelligence

- youngs teflon

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