Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song One Day, artist - Infinite. Date of issue: 18.09.2016
Song language: English
One Day |
| Yo, who stepped off rage |
| Broke cracked bottle tops, spilled this forever |
| Whites, no trace, leather jacket zipped up to his face |
| He dipped behind the wall, Shalenka couldn’t aim to touch it |
| These cats have started something that they couldn’t finish |
| Now they flee the country |
| Yo, shot guy, God please forgive this life we’re living |
| Takin' mans for diems, aiyo, hands on your head where I can see 'em |
| The chron’s shone, spit out the combine |
| I’m tryin' to make my exit real quick |
| We leave no form of evidence |
| Bakin' slugs out the dark |
| Wild shoot-outs through the park |
| These jail houses overcrowdin' |
| All my thugs remain calm |
| Money turnin', trees is burnin' |
| But one day, it’ll be gone |
| (now one day) |
| I’m your suspect |
| Yo, heavy chrons with small engravments |
| Digits wit' small letters that name it |
| Man created, but always to blame it |
| I’m far rusted, pushin' your glusted, you busted and pussy |
| Open your face and get chopped, just like a cussy |
| You’re pyro, I got one eye lookin' straight down the barrell |
| Don’t mistake me for shhhh, I’ll eat your food and real quick |
| Burn up the gear I dressed in |
| Meanwhile the motive got them itchin' questions and guesses |
| What would you ask God if you had one question? |
| Aiyo, deal wit' your family in your life |
| Don’t try to flop mine, they puttin' over dates and trials |
| Little snitches turn into coffins and push six |
| A man could be my worst enemy, I’ll take this |
| ]From pyramids, beer caps to dollar bills with faces |
| Got me chasin' bloody papers |
| Scatterd 'cross the floor like forty acres |
| So tired that, better yet, picture this from beer caps |
| To dollar bills, black clips, lyrical high tips |
| Yo, half a dutch inside a candle seed |
| Liquor bottles in cemetarys |
| 'Nuff built up inside my body, but the Lord is my salvation |
| Still have to make a move, cause just put off |
| Broken fingers on metal tables, hands off, I’ll pull off |
| Black caddies and starlen windows that’s bulletproof |
| All you could see is fog off the door |
| And richotched to the floor |
| Thirty-four fours, align your back, all straight to your jaw’s jaws |
| All pause, lookin' through the barrell, it’s all yours |