Testo Split Second - YN Jay feat. Louie Ray
Testo della canzone Split Second (YN Jay feat. Louie Ray), tratta dall'album The Scouts
Alright
(It's a Wayne beat)
Alright, yeah
You had a split second there to catch me, a'ight
All you had to catch me
You had a split second there to catch-
Black nigga, I be showing out at night like I'm Wesley
I'm in deep, but I be movin' through this shit at a jet speed
I be really out here dealing with it, I can meet needs
Fresh nigga livin' what I rap, you gotta meet me
You tryna earn a verse from JLK, you gotta beat me
Bring it to him, put it up close, make it 3D
Don't think because I'm out here getting money you gon' eat free
(Yeah, alright, psh)
If this ain't the motivation, what it gotta be?
My west niggas having complications tryna vibe East
What's the chicken on a feature, bro? I think a five piece
You want Jay to say, "Hold on!" oh, that's a .9 piece
I woke up in LA on the sheets with a dime piece
Bossin' over pasta with the shrimp, that's a light feast
20 thousand on me everyday, 'cause I'm icy
Okay
That's what we gon' do? Alright
I-, alright, I ain't gon' do that
I-, no, I can't do that either
I'll put the-, yeah!
I put the clippers to your head where the line be
I was posted up on the corner where the sign be
I knew I was doing good, they wanna sign me
I can fuck this bitch for 30 minutes, wanna time me?
I can't swim but I jumped in the water, it was nine feet
I just hit a bitch from overseas, she was Chinese
Ahhhh!
Freak bitch give me good head, it was sloppy
I done fucked my leg up tryna wheelie on a dirt bike
I done came suit and tie, got me lookin' like a church guy
I can see niggas hate from far away with my third eye, a'ight
Bitch, I don't want you, I want your best friend
Married to the money, you see Louis, that's my best man (hahaha)
Okay, build the block up and knock it down like Tetris
Pull up on your block, shoot some deep like Stephen
People tend to fuck you over man, I ain't helpin'
You can smell a nine on my breath, I just belched it
He couldn't tell I had my gun on me, but felt it (baow, baow!)
This my real life I rap, I ain't wrestlin'
I'm up late runnin' to the money now I'm s-, alright
I'm up late runnin' to the money, not sexin'
I be tryna tell it T to your face, fuck textin'
Hot play plugged up in the truck, I stretch it
Pull up, sellin' niggas quarters on the ave., no necklace
I'm on the same corner, niggas die here, learn lessons
Reckless with the hand to hand, shit can get hectic
Shit can get bad out here, niggas in these streets
It's not a playground, nigga
Credits
Writer(s): Inconnu Compositeur Auteur, Jaylein Cantrell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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