Testo Atilla - R.B.D.
Testo della canzone Atilla (R.B.D.), tratta dall'album Guess Who?
What are you doing in the sewer?
A storm blew me away. Blew the whole circus away.
Can you smell the circus, Georgie?
Ah Ah. Yeah.
Rydee if you see Stella, chale make you no holler.
It's a day late and a dollar short.
We break up like Kla-la.
Things change.
Baby, cos now ma pen game's crazy. A nutter.
Endgame, ma song's in your cell like a membrane.
Skinpain nodey matter.
I talk you say RBD die. (Nah)
Only tin e dye be ein colour.
Cos I been rhyming since.
Rydee be like say I for bell you Nala.
You fell for the lying king.
No cap.
On your left like T'Challa, your boy's back.
And I'm back with some lalafalama lyrics
And some goons on Okada.
Another spirit. Boy, Hakuna Matata.
I'm bouta send all o' these losers to Allah.
If ebe rapping I for choose then I gotta
hop in like fucking kangaroos or impalas.
I'm never stopping till I cruise in Impalas.
For now ma tongue is getting loose in the gutter.
I nodey fit sideline the itch anymore.
I go bruise every sucker.
Been five years. Now it's time to switch.
I make ready plus lines. I'm a prick.
And it's buried inside.
I dey hit this game's cherry.
You dey try find the clit.
Centre stage. Schweinsteiger shit.
I would have made it but fucked up my chance.
Oh chale ain't hindsight a bitch?
But I graduated on top of my class.
Lowkey, chale I be Einstein and shit.
Lyrics on a Michael Jackson like thriller
I for start dey write ma raps like Vanilla
Cos I know you're IQ-lacking ma ni***
I preach hurt. You go need fibroblast.
Cos with a mic in hand, I'm a psychopath.
I'm Atilla.
Atilla
Atilla
Atilla
Atilla
Atilla
Rydee if you see Stella tell am say ma music be stellar.
Slow start, but now who spits it better?
Flow, bars, are so lucid and clever.
So dark, they confuse it with Hela.
Dope art. Them for use for Coachella.
Mozart with the magic. Produced it with Teller.
So dawg you for panic.
This rapper's been fused with Cruella.
I weathered the eye of the storm cos my views are umbrellas.
So fuck all you guys who dey snore on ma tunes cos I'm better.
And I'm in form with the juice. (Muscatella)
And I'm reborn. Undying spawn.
When I record in the booth, it's one hell of a rhyming porn.
And I have been scorned but this dude's Hellen Keller.
I nodey see you. If you're taking off chale then use a propeller.
Cos killers dey come. You're still on the run.
Cos Rude is Atilla the hun.
The Nun with some drill and a gun.
You ni** are gone.
Zip, zero, nil, chale none of you ni** are realer or fun.
There's no fucking skill or a pun to your name.
Cos you're lame so I spit on you scum in the game.
I never go shun wey no bro go deliver you from me cos
I make ready plus lines. I'm a prick.
And it's buried inside.
I dey hit this game's cherry.
You dey try find the clit.
Centre stage. Schweinsteiger shit.
I would have made it but fucked up my chance.
Oh chale ain't hindsight a bitch?
But I graduated on top of my class.
Lowkey, chale I be Einstein and shit.
Lyrics on a Michael Jackson like thriller
I for start dey write ma raps like Vanilla
Cos I know you're IQ lacking ma ni***
I preach hurt. You go need fibroblast.
Cos with a mic in hand, I'm a psychopath.
I'm Atilla.
Atilla
Atilla
Atilla
Atilla
Atilla
Wave! (7x)
Move!
Wave! (7x)
Move!
Wave! (7x)
Move!
Wave! (7x)
Move!
Stereo 6
Credits
Writer(s): R.b.d., Rbd Gh
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