Testo Engraved - V Don
Testo della canzone Engraved (V Don), tratta dall'album Black Mass
This first segment of the record is designed
To improve measurably your listening ability
Ain't no takin' breaks to the family set
You rock your man Patek
Fuck Jomoney, it's moist, yo, his hands be wet
Fuck a favor, helpin' others rise make you greater
This logic don't make sense if you a hater
True indeed, I had dope that made the hall of fame
You might be born a rat, yo, what's your father name?
Stay out the pool, don't let water get on your Starter chain
Somethin' on your neck, no gun, you should've bought a brain
You outside with Balencis on your foot
With a 2G stash, you want the money or the look
Niggas talkin' all this customer shit
All them Percs in your mouth, that's dope
Boy, you 'posed to hustle the shit
Peace to my fanbase, your bars lack your man traits
I shoot twice, miss on purpose and hit your man face
I need a queen that's plant-based, that's the thing
Back and hit the Range and go shot for shot with a nina
I spell my name in your Beamer, Spanish, observe the penmanship, dawg
I'm extra ignorant, y'all ain't never been the shit, homie
We could take it straight to the paint
You shouldn't beef without a lawyer retained
Your new shit annoyin' my brain
Fuckin' up my pineal gland, I play some Jay Black and boil the 'caine
Is you loyal to your team or you loyal to gain?
I represent my side only, so remember the name, Claw
What's your man, son?
Yo, you see that fool?
Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah
Yo, smack me slow, I need the yayo back
You got spared if I cut you and your face ain't cracked
Keep the hustle first, stay on track
You chasin' women but got the nerve
To wonder why your plate ain't packed
Stupid, nowadays, discipline is a rarity
She water whipped ten more on it, I told her marry me
It's all business like Marlo killin' Prop Joe
What up, Poppo? Tell papi I'm on his block, yo
Bring a batch, your last coke was iffy
I need some shit that have they jaws dancin' like Diddy
I ain't never sellin' weight to a nigga, lessen my fall
'Bout to grab a quarter, son, wait for the nigga
Feed yourself, limit who'll pass you a plate
Soon as hold it over your head, they wasn't happy you ate
It's a fact, assignable men in hell trap
Fam got a quarter to life 'cause he ain't tell back
Miss you lackin'
One-fourth of the listening mind is occupied with what is being said
The other three-quarters is unoccupied
And the metal quickly finds work for an unoccupied mind
Credits
Writer(s): Tivon Key
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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