Lyrics:
on the ave
Hoppin' out the DBS, gеttin' to the bag
If you gettin' in my way then
I'm gеttin' to the mag (You know)
True story (Yeah) it's too gory (Yeah)
[Bun B]
Let's get it started like transmission and alternators
Got the keys in the cage ready for who you call the greatest
Takin 'em down from
back
You on the right track
Go on and shake a little sum
You feel it don't fight that
Let the rhythm hit you
Up in this bitch
Turnt up
Like it's the last
the new Monroe
C'mon cut the lack I want get you out the shack
I wanna get you back on my motherfucking track
Let's get our racks up make em' stats that's
it out, please put it out
Y'all little like Ford Fiats
Every track we drop are Basquiats
You biotch
You little like Ford Fiats
The tracks we drop are
[Shyheim:]
Yo, yo
I spark the mic like weed that's in a cipher
And I get girls open like a reggae song by Tiger
So check me out, as I flip this here track
asked me if I needed help
Did it back to back all my fuckin' pain went into these verses and I let it sang
Every time I drop the track hope y'all finally
eat alone
Make another track and my album was a week ago
Didn't have a path, but today I can see the road
Think about the old me it doesn't ring a bell
another proper crack
and it's phat, watch the sniper, time to pay the piper
and let that real shit provoke, so you's a wanna be 'loc
and you'll get smoked
out now if you really want more
Let me take it back a few years describing the scene
In Cleveland, Ohio we're at Notacon 3
A hotel party that was
the calendar design
Wilderness tours, guided for and by the blind
Cool ruler standing still sweating through the shades
He knew those lights only grew bright
to king, wit a million
MC's waitin in line
Keep a barrel on this album if my man's and them rise
[Method Man]
Now speed it up, uh
[Chorus: x 2]
Run
to tracks with scratching on wax,
backspins on mats, tagging and graff. That's where it's at.
Mic check to peace out. I pleased crowds so well,
the main
the thing to make the things worse Baby I should think first
‘For I make the things worse
My name is Trev
And this is an album by me It’s called RUMTLOVE
you mad about?
I wake up every day, go to the mall and I'll be cashin' out
Can't take my drac' nowhere is it be actin' out
Smokin' all this wood by
sequential
It's essential, you listen, I drive, you a pedestrian
They bless me on the track cuz I attack wit' the estrogen
Rhyme against the best a men,
Or get punched by Conor McGregor
Than get on a song with you bro
Let's make it official
In the year two thousand and never
I would rather drink Clorox
tell?
Whole team turning 30 like that album by Adele
Its 90Sitcom like fresh prince or saved by the bell
Them streams don't count if you just playing em
finish it
I feel like Bradley in Limitless
My albums a movie no images yuh
I took a second perfected my craft
Then I come back like I'm swinging a bat
and during the show
Has no bearing on the bad news I'm bearing, whoa
What is it, wordplay? No, I'm pushing you out the do'
So suck my dick on the couch if
back
They tryna steal off my track you could
I'm good I'm a let you be whack
Can't come up with yo own lyrics
Now you paying ghostwriters for that
Ain't
to
I'm back in my bag, but I wanna take my niggas with me
The love I gained out, it was a plenty
Couldn't turn to everybody, when shit turned empty
Hate
Man I think we got a real one here
Ali’s been in album mode, when he lets the album go he’ll have an ill one year
An hour ago it was still unclear
[Hook]
You hear a lot of music, but it's boring
You hear a lot of flows, but don't enjoy 'em
You hear a lot of albums, and you snoring
But
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