積分

AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Boldy James
Boldy James
Stimme und Gesang
Conway the Machine
Conway the Machine
Stimme und Gesang
Styles P
Styles P
Stimme und Gesang
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
James Clay Jones IIl
James Clay Jones IIl
Songwriter:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Troy Ceasar
Troy Ceasar
Produzent:in
Carlo Anthony
Carlo Anthony
Produzent:in

歌詞

[Verse 1]
The bags were 12-12 size, 6 by 8 feet, that was my jail cell size
Hell rail, let twelve shells fly (Brrt)
We know you pussy, look how you move, that's a tell-tale sign
It do not make any sense (Uh-huh)
How you online speaking on minds, but when them **** smoked your peoples, you ain't even try to spin?
You did not make an attempt
So that tough shit online do not make us convinced
Or concerned, ****, trust me, shots sprayed from tents
**** tried runnin' a crib, got shot breakin' the fence (Boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo)
Bribe who? You not takin' a cent (What you takin', ****?)
In the trenches, used to be in the spot with a
Half a block and a pot, takin' a rent, stove is broke (Whip, whip)
I use the hot plate when I whip (Whip, whip)
Now I'm killin' these shows, I rock stages and dip (Ah)
Did it my way and I'm rich, ****, shame
[Verse 2]
Conway, I love you too
Pull up with the stick (Ha)
Used to move bricks to get a house made of brick (What up?)
Ignorant ****, I read Malcolm, but I still fell in love with the strip (Fell in love)
Fast money, dope line, nine with the clip (Facts)
Bubble coupe, pretty chick
Beamin' with the kill, it's the fast life
Slow down, **** get you hit (Slow down)
We can shoot the fade with the razor blade (What up?)
Made man, made a way, fuck ****, fade away (Made man, fuck ****)
I'm just tryna get to the bread, tough eight-a-way (Take it away)
Baby, nine-a-way, cheese like Monterey (Ha)
I'm playin' Conway, watchin' Jimmy Conway (Yeah)
Good fellas shit, always bid things the dime way (Good fellas shit)
Uncle Paulie with a darker tone
Ballin' like Wilson, in the park alone (I'm all alone)
But no more negative shit (Uh-uh)
Just gettin' money, gettin' money, yeah, repetitive shit, ghosts
[Verse 3]
Tirin' out the wrong back, sparrin' in my own match (Aye)
Merely just a trap star, starvin' in my own trap (Aye)
Never caught a bad break, bottle never break, bad (Relax)
Fast break, bleed a **** strip like some brake pads (What else?)
Ran up a fat check, movin' out with them blue jigs (Yeah)
Knew the route like a routine, never needed a Map Quest (Uh-huh)
Tomb Raider, left .250 wet, dry on the newspaper (Uh)
Two rags was sittin' on the plate next to the full saber (Oh, yeah)
Blue bucks and with the Klin, whole crew clutchin' (Aye)
Hoppin' out the van with three Ks, we be Ku Kluxin'
Bake them cakes as fast as I can, I'm the muffin man (Uh)
Black boxes on all of the Glocks, welcome to Buttonland (Brrt)
He just sayin' some shit that sound cool
Dropped out of Cooley High, graduated from crime school (Aye)
With honors, worth a couple of commas (Uh-huh)
Just another big fish in a small pond full of piranhas
What else?
[Outro]
I should've begged her one more time to stay
But I didn't think she had the nerve to walk away
Nobody knows how I really need her
Nobody knows how I would just like to see her
Written by: James Clay Jones IIl
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