Testo Liar - Lil Peep
Testo della canzone Liar (Lil Peep), tratta dall'album EVERYBODY'S EVERYTHING
I've been through a lot boy (Punk star)
I've been through a lot boy
I ain't gonna stop boy
(Ooh, Bi-Bighead on the beat)
I ain't gonna stop boy, yeah
Always runnin' from the cops, boy
Yeah
Call it rap, call it pop, boy, yeah (call it rap, call it pop, boy)
Call it what you want, boy, yeah (call it what you want, boy)
We call you a opp, boy, yeah (we call you a opp, boy)
You got a big gun? Who you shot, boy? (Huh?)
Call it rap, call it pop, boy, yeah (call it rap, call it pop, boy)
Call it what you want, boy, yeah (call it what you want, boy)
We call you a opp, boy, yeah (we call you a opp, boy)
Damn, I'm a real life GothBoi (I'm a real life GothBoi)
Why the fuck you lyin' in the streets? (Lyin' in the streets)
Why the fuck you lyin' to me? (Lyin' to me)
Why the fuck you lyin' to her? (Lyin' to her)
You couldn't even buy her the purse (nah)
Everybody wanna flex on each other (why?)
I just want some money for my mother (damn)
This ain't a competition (nah)
Please listen (shh), yeah
Hold up, listen to me, right?
I was really in the kitchen, yeah (I was really in the kitchen)
But I sing about bitches, yeah (but I sing about bitches)
'Cause I really know killas ('cause I really know killas)
And they are not like you at all
And I could tell it, yeah, I could smell it
I could see it in your eyes, boy, yeah
That's why I got respect, 'cause I ain't a fuckin' liar, boy (nah)
Yeah, yeah, damn
Call it rap, call it pop, boy, yeah (call it rap, call it pop, boy)
Call it what you want, boy, yeah (call it what you want, boy)
We call you a opp, boy, yeah (we call you a opp, boy)
You got a big gun? Who you shot, boy? (Huh?)
Call it rap, call it pop, boy, yeah (call it rap, call it pop, boy)
Call it what you want, boy, yeah (call it what you want, boy)
We call you a opp, boy, yeah (we call you a opp, boy)
Damn, I'm a real life GothBoi (I'm a real life GothBoi)
You ain't on the block, boy
Yeah, you got a Glock, boy, yeah
You hot, boy?
That ain't smart, boy, get your ass locked, boy
And for what?
You're diggin' ya own grave
You're diggin' ya own grave, yeah
Credits
Writer(s): Brenden Murray, Gustav Ahr, Benjamin Friars Funkhouser
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