Текст песни Sean Price - Brokest Rapper You Know

It go, Frederick Douglas, Nat Turner,Ku Klux Klan, big black burner.Ashtray, cigarette butts,Box cutter, Gem Star, watch this nigga get cut.Ten dollars, two tokens,Friends hollerin', "Yo, what you smokin?"I reply with, "None of ya biz!"It's father's day and I ain't get shit from none of my kids.Listen, liquor store, let me get a fifth,Weed spots, let me get a spliff,Mad as hell, plus I'm frustrated,Last album came out, you mothafucks hate it.Rock solo, Ruck broke,Here's a hundred dollars, what a fuckin' joke!

Eviction notice, yo, I gotta go,Album been out two months, ain't did a fuckin' show.Ruckus, you ruined, I put the barrel to my dome,But what the fuck are you doin'? Chill.Found a new way to build,Fuck rap, started sellin' 2-ways and pills.When the stomach growls, and the fridge bare,And you starvin', and ya kids there,It's mothafuckin' critical, pa,My pursuit of this rap, knew this straight trivial, pa.Niggas all claim loyalty yet, they all jetWhen they fuckin' with a four dollar royalty check.And if you feel me, act like you know,Sincerely yours, the brokest rapper you know, Sean P!
Понравился текст песни? Поделись с друзьями:

Добавить комментарий

Ваш адрес email не будет опубликован. Обязательные поля помечены *

* Нажимая на кнопку "Отправить комментарий" Вы соглашаетесь с политикой конфиденциальности.