The Brand - Young Lito, Troy Ave, King Sevin

The Brand - Young Lito, Troy Ave, King Sevin

Год
2014
Язык
`Inglês`
Длительность
267070

Abaixo está a letra da música The Brand , artista - Young Lito, Troy Ave, King Sevin com tradução

Letra da música " The Brand "

Texto original com tradução

The Brand

Young Lito, Troy Ave, King Sevin

Yo Yankee, this verse‘s gonna cost you ten bands, you heard?

Lito

(Rap, one take)

I’m a pretty boy but I pop lead

And my guap spread, watch you wanna cop?

I could shop ‘till I drop dead

Birds flock to me, ‘cause they know I’ve got bread

Money ain’t a thing, I blow green like a pothead

Cops said they’re gonna take me out the game

They’re tripping, you won’t catch me slipping if it rain

It’s sickening, haters wanna tear me out the frame

If I get wash, pistols coming out like stains

I pick it up and aim, and blow it out your brain

When it’s beef we don’t play, it’s like we forfeited the game

Man, this is a shame how they want my head

These hoes want the love but I want the head

These niggas give me hugs but I want the bread

Any means necessary, like Malcolm said

If it’s a problem, my shooters ‘ll snipe him dead

I used to shoot for them bucks, like Michael Redd

I lay back instead, I’d rather stack the bills

Nothing but bricks, I know how Shaq feels

Flow sick, if you ain’t thinkin' I’m that ill

It’s a slogan for my bars, you heard that crack kills

I’m that real, let a nigga act trill

Give me the steel, I bet I’m ‘a peel like Advil

Y’all niggas chill, y’all better stay cool

‘Cause the four-five equal the Chanel Nine News (boom!)

(Motherfucker!)

I’m America’s nightmare

Coke stay stashed in the Nik' Airs

Or ball tucked

Ruger ‘cause a nigga don’t fight fair

Short with words, I don’t converse with herbs

Niggas talking like they' ill, knowing they came for them birds

Boy, y’all came for the bricks?

I’m talking chopping up birds

Rockin' up in the spots, cops hopping the curb

Lethal shot to his top, only movement his nerves

I’m from a block,

Paranoia keep me strapped, mental when I

Got a nine, got a deuce, both would put you on your back

One down, but they don’t even got the little gats

Want peace face to face, talkin' violence in they rap

Oh, you nasty on your beats?

Slow down rapper

I’m a master in the hood, you know that rapper

This shot’ll hit your head — «blaow» — hold that rapper

Avon Blocksdale, I ain’t no rapper

(Motherfuckers)

Turn me up a little bit

(Yankee, I see you nigga)

Uh

Seat back, smoke blowin' out the Yukon

With a Connecticut mami, she goes to UConn

She from the Grove, I’m just trying to get my groove on

After I hit, gettin' clipped like a coupon

Used to ignore me, but now they all on me

Swear it ain’t a time I speak to these bitches they ain’t horny

When it was time to get to the money, they ain’t call me

Now they’re calling for a feature, but now they can’t afford me

It’s all corny, livin' off of what they used to be

A bunch of old niggas trying to get their youth from me

But now I’m up, it’s about what you can do for me

‘Cause I was paid back when I was duckin' truancy

Boy in the hood, been a menace to my society

We’re all trying to be paid in full, here’s the irony

It’s all a rivalry, my friends don’t mix well

It’s like Crisco in a wish' well

But I just want all my niggas with me when I touch this first milli

But most of my niggas state prop', I ain’t talkin' Philly

I spit crack, the soul of an old shooter

You’re just a young gunner, learning how to maneuver

There’s no leeway on this freeway

Itchy trigger fingers get scratched like the sweepstakes

You never know

That’s why we keep the metal close

And we ain’t afraid to make the whistle like kettle smoke

King Sevin

They kettle smoke as a motherfucker

You niggas, you don’t want no smoke

I ain’t even gotta rap, my niggas got it

BSB records, the brand

The people’s brand

That brand you can trust and believe in

Dope boy Troy

Got eight thousand dollars in my pocket for no motherfucking reason

And I’m about to go pick up more money

I ain’t even gonna say no more

eight thousand in your pocket for no reason

You ain’t gotta say no more

Feel like putting bars in this bitch so bad

This be hard, right?

‘Ey you niggas don’t loop this shit and try to put your verses on it

This BSB shit

Uh, duh-duh, d-duh d-duh, dun-duh, d-dun d-duh

Aight, we can let it breathe

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