Print

"My style's so amazing" "I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique" "My style's so amazing" I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique I see you Preme Turn me up though, put my vocals loud This that gutter shit That's a nice, a nice motherfucker shit Playing ball at the Rucker shit, nigga These niggas read off a script, when they see me they stop the acting School shooter, grey colt .45 when I lock the class in Drunk nights, I would battle the Remy with lots of passion Lost a war knowing, it never was easy to block a captain Lеan back soldier, ya need crack, don’t ya? Won’t let ya quit, herе go a fix, just relapse, won’t ya? This that fatigue rap, jeans black Green Bay jersey matching the team hat You all need crack, so I brought Preem back (Come on) No more Mr. Nice Guy, we the owners of street rap It is hard to earn, my daily operation is bring the streets back Everyday I go in the booth, I load up and shoot (Blat) When I step in the arena, always seen a moment of truth I been a Gang starr from flipping raw to prison brawls, and shank scars No need for thanks y’all Letras de cancionesI'm from the bottom bred where niggas'll twist ya top like they locking dreads Chess not checkers, your Bishop get jumped by Radames "They say my style's so amazing" "Style, flavor, grace" "I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique" "They say my style's so amazing" "I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique" "They say my style's so amazing" "I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique" "They say my style's so amazing" This is that rooftop music right here That staircase shit, yeah let’s go My talk is a food for thought So none other can raise the stakes, make ya plate Got no filler, so save ya amazing grace I'm from the jungles, they knew that my mother would raise an ape Born from the bottom, it's true that the gutter don’t make mistakes I got the formula to form moolah, make it euphoria (Yeah) I'll N.O.R.E. ya on the run eating and creeping in Florida I ain’t even applauding you (Nah) These two hands come together to slaughter ya No one remembers the thought of ya Visions of staircases and rooftops And even in rare cases we shoot cops Mask off, got bare faces for new opps (Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot) Yeah, I can trigger the worst when I come up big in a verse You can hear the traces of Tupac (Baby) We deep in the trenches, but so poised I realized the emptiest of minds make the most noise We dope boys, but move so meticulous Belichick drawing plays for viciousness Now you know what the mission is, nigga From Letras Mania