ToLetras - Letras para cada momento.

MY LIBRARY

Recent Saved Album Artists

Anybody

de Curren$y

My satelite trippin', I watch TV at your girl house
My homies fell through, we had a smoke-out at your girl house
Dropped ashes everywhere, burnt holes in your girl's couch
Put a pillow over it
I was gone before she noticed it
Just a glimpse into the daily happenings
Of one of them flyest to ever try his wings at this rappin' shit
In love with the rap hustle, I never turned my back on it
I run after money that's why them bitches run after me
Whack rappers on a dope beat: simple battery
Hot Spitta on any beat: that's a fatality
Vicious how you do it? I don't know it just comes naturally
Spitters Spicoli, Zig-Zag
Rollin' with my Cali homies
My patience for the middle man has run out
Take me to the boss like the Mike Tyson code-own punch out
I'm really on my grind
You just lookin' for a ride
Like you standin' on the side of the road with your dumb mouth

Spitta is chillin'
The Planes in the buildin'
The bitches like us cause they say we different
From all them other niggas say they just not with it
Smoke and make music, I'm a modern day hippie

Still on my New Orleans shit, asthmatic
Spitta keep a bag of Dolium and some prolactin mist
I'm as vicious as it get
This is rap with rabies
I got a fetish for Chevy's created in the 80s
And you say you riding old schools too, you all mistaking
That's a 190E, just a old ass Mercedes
Know a lot of niggas hate me cause my pockets getting cakey
These fuck boys can't see the paper that The Plane see
Bumping Paper Planes by M.I.A
I'm partying in M.I.A
My bitches looking for me say I'm M.I.A
They trying to spy on me like the CIA
Call Cheaters on me, I just say "Homie"
Then I cruise the other way

Más canciones de Curren$y