Lyrics:
raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience
To barbecue your brain organs
You feel like you've been thrown in a microwave
Lil' Turk
Bling blingin' everyday, plus I got work (bling)
Nigga like me stay in the cut twenty-four/seven
Steady stackin' my ends on dubs
Lil' Turk
Bling blingin' everyday, plus I got work (bling)
Nigga like me stay in the cut twenty-four/seven
Steady stackin' my ends on dubs
Lost in your arms again
Lost in the waves
Standing by a river got me caught up in my dreams
Caught in-between, rough undercurrent in the stream
This
When I see you on the street
My whole body gets weak
When you're standing in a crowd
Your love talks to me so loud
Girl, do I do, what you do,
on
Talkin' 'bout he Italian
Say I won't go drop a double album
And rap double time on all dub-step
And got no producers
Just me rockin' over beat-boxin'
By
no A/C
But, it's cool in here
Sink into my bed
But, there's no faucets by my pillow
When I close my eyes
Album cover art by Tool appears
Monsters
tryna hear it
I gotcha attention by being consistent
But the gap between us was a hell of a distance
You on a level I couldn't even fathom
Got in some
the hills to the best
I prove that I'm witty by usin my mind
I spit from my heart so you don't confuse
Me with other crews in my city
Cause I am the hardest
a ding hard as I'm gonna swing
I'm gonna need to put my arm in a sling
But like a wedding band you gotta be diamond to even climb in the ring
Rewind the clip
Yeah, I'll start by taking back
It's Spring of '17
Sitting shotgun there in my car
You said celebrities are sad, no matter how big or small
Blinded by greatness and I been blinded by grace
Rip to my sister I been missin' your face
I know you're up in heaven so save me a space
You need to save me
This song was first released on the Autograph album. It is the only album it has been released on.
He was stranded in some tiny town
On fair
The Republicans believe in their right to bear arms
No matter the rising death toll
And the amount of harm it causes to innocent people
They have their right
ex-pionage, dodgeball square hard
Strip bars, no bras, wet leotards
And a mink in, next album "Blood on Chef Apron"
Keep a Gambino PlayStation in your playpen
of power over
Two hundred-fifty-thousand albums
Sold worldwide and this ain't even half
The potential I possess
Invest while I reflect
Look me in the eye
Fuck your mixtape, that shit's not (fire)
Fuck your album, that shit's not (fire)
Every time, you hear Chip drops (fire)
Touch the mic and ignite that
fades to pink and blue
As I cry
In your arms
And if you wanna take a picture
Maybe we could make an album too
And fill it with some stupid memories of us
We so jiggy up in here (let's go Weezy)
Slim baby, I see you (yes)
The streets make the hustlas
Hustlas make the world go 'round
The world is
and drank Cris'
(Shine) - My life is the shit
[Lil Wayne]
And the name be fire Wayne, ice and change
You can catch me in an aqua range, squattin things
in yo head, is my electricution
But I'm comin back, and this time I'm strapped
And fuck +The Law+, 'cause I'm bustin my gat
And I'm wanted by y'all,
was barely 5 for 5 minutes
Was only in it for the image
Claiming top 5, but top 5 is too gifted
And it's taken by a couple of my brothers, don't get it
against my skin
I want to find some shelter in someone's arms
When I go too far I know that
Every time I fall back
You grab my shoulder to keep me
on
Let the cries out
Wave a whole chicken by his
Legs near the crotch smells
Sweating bullets in the tip
Blow torching his flesh
I seen his face melt
Drip
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