Testo Lightwork Freestyle - Aystar
Testo della canzone Lightwork Freestyle (Aystar), tratta dall'album Lightwork Freestyle
Yo
I came up off the back blocks, selling crack rocks
Couple of the boys sold weed 'cause swag's hot
There's me, arse cheeks full of pure B
Meeting fiends in mad spots like I give two fucks
I'm tryna get mad guap
I'm flying OT, stayed in a punters crib and now I got mad spots
Switched up the spot, the next spot had fleas
So I jumped up like, "Yo, let's rock"
Now I'm doing up B&B's 'cause the punters want three on three
Snitches sing like PnB Rock
Plus the music ting's hot, I'm blowing up like TNT
BRB, I'm going to cut down this crop and when it drops
It's bare rambos and hella Glocks
When I'm on the YZ, it's bare roads and hella cops
When I wake up, bare sunshine and hella dots
'Cause on the strip, gun crime and hella shots
Are getting popped, man get headtop, get left deadstock
Catch chest shots and leg shots and even catch neck shots
So you don't wanna be me next opp
Might just pop out the bush and leave you with a red top
Let lead pop, bring a nigga to a dead stop
A man showed me his plants, I said, "That's a dead crop"
He's tryna grow some punch or some other dead weed
He reckons seven quid a box
I said I wouldn't even pay one-twenty for the odds of that weed
About seven quid a box, you'll probably get about three
I told him not to buy them cutties, he's stupid
He didn't listen, now he's growing shit weed
You know how many man I know who grow shit weed?
And when the weed done drops, they be wanting mad P
Someone please school these guys who've been growing for two weeks
Dad, they need to sell the weed for cheap
Sell the weed for cheap or need to change the profession
That's your fifth crop and I ain't even seen progression
Don't talk shit to me unless you wanna meet my two little mates
We go by the name Smith and Wesson
This one yout said he wants to teach me a lesson
'Til I backed out the big hand ting and started pressing
He gripped onto his gear stick and started stressing
Couldn't even put it into gear
I stalled the whole whip, shots flew through the rear
One slug missed, he nearly got clipped in his ear
I'll put shells in your headrest
And leave you lying down like you're tryna bench press
Little muppets, one punch will leave you dense-less
And if you go gym, the .45 will leave you hench-less
This a real ting, it's not a Webley 10 pest
Sweat your crop and then we're all up in your crib like tempest
Yeah, we're pests, we'll put man to rest
And when it comes to this raw rap shit, G, I'm the best
Beef at all long, I'll just come to your nest
And leave you in the ground like some cress
Might catch me in a big ting or see me blending in an S
But either which way, if chase comes on, it's getting left
The last chase got left 'cause feds thought I went left
I purchased this whip through a theft
The last kid that I cheffed, I left him in a bad mess
The last kid that got kweffed, obviously he got left
Why'd you think me niggas out the country?
Can't come back because he put two to bed
Now he's dead by living, who am I kidding?
They were moving like Sasuke with the kunai and shooting them
Plus niggas don't wanna go to prison
Man are out there dodging extradition
Seeing more views than Floyd's and Logan Paul's exhibition
You don't wanna see the hitters on a mission
'Cause niggas go missing, see me blacked out with the Smithon
Or Canada Goose'd up with the Kitchener, man are dipping
Credits
Writer(s): Kamron Lloyd Chevannes, Aaron Davies Ferguson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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