Lyrics:
bought like your ig stats
Crew do cocaine
Raps like little wayne
Butterfly coupe G four stay in your lane
Black and brown though niggas
Think I'm from
When you're weary, feelin small
And tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all
I am by your side
When times get tough
And friends just can't be found
He took a shot, he missed
It bounced of the diamonds on my wrist, the bitch
I keep coming at you with the hits, it's bliss
Wanna make 20 by my 25th,
subs were sub 8k
Lost in Vegas too
You stay bitter like the hops in this brew
The bud is loud and funky just like Hopsin and crew
Mary got my eyes
[Intro: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Fuck these hoes, it's the re-do, you know how we do
Every Single Bitch y'all
From the Psycho Active album, by my nigga X
Hey, check one, two. Kevin has asked me to collaborate on a post-rock album about a dying heartbeat. Post-rock? Uhh, some sort of dead romance
crew prancing
Taken back by the showmancing
To junior year nights, no understanding
Tonight I'm laying here twitching
Thinking, hearing, seeing you
brief
Put me on a song I'm a Cool Calm Pete
Put me on a beat crews choose to stomp feet
Return from being zombies how they feel strongly
People holding
S and M this ain't for SNL
I'm giving them H E double L
Imma play the game like GTA
So I can pay for steak at STK
Can afford to eat it everyday
By playing
album but that went nowhere fast
And to make matters worse, my boy J. Dilla passed
Feelin' bad 'cause me and Dilla played phone tag
For at least two
amusement, I'm never clueless
I do this but never foolish, you doo doo and that's what stool is
My crew is cool as the Fonz and you're Ferris Bueller
No
myself
I be drinkin' by myself, livin' shrinkin' like an elf
Next I wished for wealth, 90 million in the bank account
Young niggaz with money, that's
large checks
Casue we skiddly-dip-dip-do-dep dip dip for effects
Brothers think I'm dissing, but I'm really on the dicks
Look into my album
wit'cha album covers
Cross em out and put a'K
Then no Saint days, nigga, then run the fuckin holidays
'Ey! I Cross 'Em Out and Put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
dirty dishes
But the Genie in the Lamp gave Tash like 30 wishes
First I wished for health 'cause I be thinkin' bout myself
I be drinkin' by myself,
the crew, still roll with my niggaz.,.
But I just had to focus... focus as a motherfucking man as a solo
artist..again..
I know last time I dropped one
criminal I talk
With the street slang
People talk but ain't a crew
That we can't show up it's so tough
The music hit's you harder than a hold-up
I'll take
the club thrown at you and your crew.
>From moette bottles to bar stools, fruits and foods, if you got a
album
Out you get hit with your CD too.
grill niggas, spit a barbecue
Committing drive-bys out a grey Coupe
When I start drowning rappers, dawg
It ain't cute
Till every person in they group
Turn
the more they run
im in a rage, off that indo and cocaine
you got my fade nigga that was my chewy
Fuck ya crew cause ya crew never knew me
and just like
hurt
Got kicked out my house
Dumped by my girl, but the grind don't stop
Bitch it never will working for no pay
Working everyday living in a basement
Got
traumas but they don’t forget me
A sick fiend, I’ve got 2 left shoulders
Fueled by liquor cause I can do less sober
I wish my whole crew gets older
but too
talk down on my name
When you asked for advise
Gotta stay ready for everything
Don't let them catch you by surprise
They ask me how to became wise
hawkin'
From Pensauken to Vienna
I be me and a slew to combat your crew
With acrobatics only seen in cartoons
Like the Go-ad Rucker, double-pumped
Discuss these by album album 3ec crew Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In