Print

Yeah Yes We do this with no apology, Paul Wall, Termanology With hands down one of the best, true, I gotta be Fools running 'round here front, no, probably While I'm breathing, all of my roses now, honor me Boy, you still in the hood? I be in the new spot I go to the dealership, you be in the used lot This is what separates me and you clearly And one, two mic check one, two you hear me? This is not a test, I mix it up with the best If this was military, have medals all on my chest Cory Penn in the flеsh and the talk never rеsts When I could smack you like old boy did for far less Do this for no clout, show you what it's all about And for the record, you can keep my wife's name out your mouth Do you wanna press charges with they ass off top? And he kept it one hundred, my brother Ziploc I gotta let 'em know I gotta let 'em know Paul Wall, baby Ayy, ayy Turn up the decibel and move back the decimal Letras de cancionesI come through, times ten, epitome of professional Eating a psilocybin edibles, smoking vegetables Bag it up like some vegetables and split it like a sectional Flow impeccable, every verse is a spectacle Couldn't see me with spectacles, the Wall is impregnable When you write your top five, make sure my name's legible A walking NFT, my presence is collectible The payments early, that means we on schedule Actual factual, you keep it hypothetical High evaluation, we the upper pedestal CL and Statik, this a long way from Reginald Quite incredible how I impress the skeptical Fortitude intestinal, I'm thorough to the skeletal The level that I'm on is inaccessible My title's incontestable, so get of off my testicles Said, it's magic 'Ology Paul Wall, baby, CL Here we go I hit the booth like it's nothin', I got that stupid production She in my coupe, then we fuckin', I got her loose and she bustin' I'm makin' loot with her cousins, they all loopy and thuggin' 'Cause I'm addicted to cash, the only boo I be cuffin' And I be Blueberry puffin', them eggs be movin' in dozens I don't have stupid discussions, I hold a Ruger, it's Russian The homie Stat', he be diggin', he got that stupid percussion I'm on that stoop with a Dutch and no, I ain't movin' for nothin' You follow rules, it's disgusting, I just be do what I wantin' Carry a tool like I'm huntin', I eat your food like a muffin I really come from the hood, really come from the gutter My daddy beat me up bad and I put that on my mother Yeah, I'm truly a G, shining through your TV When I be doing my thing, I charge a beautiful fee In the coupe or a V, state troopers can see They mad that I'm still shining, wanna shoot me for free Making music with that Stat', told him, "Loop up a beat" Pistol whip you in your mouth, have you chewing your teeth Do the stallion dance, might shoot at your feet Might bag a few grams, might move you a key Always murdered the beat, every verse I release Making bangers with Paul, now we 'bout to repeat They say my pen is elite, from the pen' to the streets Give me a pen and the pad, now pay attention, it's deep This shit is magic From Letras Mania