Testo Pure - D-Block Europe
Testo della canzone Pure (D-Block Europe), tratta dall'album The Blue Print – Us Vs. Them
(KookUp, what's up?)
(Turn me up, Zento)
I seen my first memories on them bando floors
We get the trap, wee, wee, yeah, check the score
I got the Range Rover, somethin' black with the mash, do you get it?
She want some VVS', check her hand, that's her plan, do you get it?
I swear to God, that's my darling and I pay the tab, black debit
Operation five G-packs in the back, they gon' say
I got the molly and edibles broad day, turn a boy to a vegetable
Can't get to the US, all my cases are federal, they impeccable
I'm whippin' up crack you to storm and most of these niggas 'round, they pay
Like a Krispy Kreme, so clean, whippin' up crack, got the glaze
I got some pain in my heart and I swear to God, you could tell by my face
Yeah, niggas hate me and LB, we was active, hittin' niggas broad day
When this shit rains, it pours, I can tell that you niggas weren't poor
I got a famous bitch, so what? Make her on the floor
Ten to 0, check the score
New car, come ball
See the nigga GG ain't pure
LB, that's for sure
Amiri jeans and I'm angry
I've been with Chromes from a day
Hi-Tech or lemonade
Argue with bro, see their grave
Killer, killer, shoot him with the blick that put him down the curb
Gucci, blueprint, hit you, fuckin' stupid
Are you 'bout to die 'bout your word?
And I'm with Chromes, that nigga a cat
I got some flake, came from a Turk
This bitch is the shit, so I call her a turd
This nigga ain't never killed no-one, I call him a nerd
Pull up, see the curb
Porsche Jeep, say the word
When this shit rains, it pours, I can tell that you niggas weren't poor
I got a famous bitch, so what? Make her on the floor
Ten to 0, check the score
New car, come ball
I'm in a Range, black on black
You see the flash on the tar (Flash on the tar)
From the stage straight to the trap
They know I was destined to win
The AP is wet like a tap
60 the ride
These niggas, they're wishin' for days
My nigga, he fresh from a ride
And that ain't no cap
I heard that your killers, they miss
To niggas, I move antisocial (uh-huh)
Got that bitch through the Social
And I still feel the pain that I go through
We ain't the same, bro, I told you
I guess the money gon' clean, so I'm sorta good
I ain't gotta trap but I thought I should
Now I feed all the bros like I thought I would
Bro passed the exam when he learned to cook
I've been buyin' these clothes and that's devilish
I got a hoe that wants everything
Bro got a box and he pebble it
He comin' up just like me, and it's evident (it's evident)
The trap spot is evident (evident)
I love this hoe and she Heaven sent (Heaven sent)
I been missin' my bro but when he come home
He gonna be back like he never left (he never left)
It's ten nil to us, we won again, they wanna get equal (equal)
My killers the most, they pull up in cars, they scheme on your people (people)
I can't change for the fame, bro, I know you (I know you)
My life is insane, I stay the same and I still show love like I'm supposed to
Credits
Writer(s): Inconnu Compositeur Auteur, Daniel Nduwimana
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