Lyrics Something To Believe In - Slaine

Something To Believe In

Er’day I wake up to the same shit
I’ve been caking, Cheya
But nowadays the more niggas hating
Cheya, They in the cut sitting patient
Waiting for me to meet God or Satan
Cheya, I’m in the streets where the killers roam
Them villains know if you fake like silicone
You talk about it but inside the kid a clone
And under pressure he’ll fold, Man I should’ve known
Shit I deal with, Tryin' to make a mil.
quick
Still sick, Can find a real chick to chill with
I know about a dollar, Neck frozen by the collar
Them O’s and then them timers, Goons holding on a Llama’s
TEC blowing for the drama, Got a Trojan for your mama
Why she blowin' on this gamma, Getting low in the Bahamas
Slaine said Lou, «Get on some lyrical shit»
It’s a miracle I ain’t spiritual the shit that I live with
That real street shit, Real niggas that I eat with
Let the heat spit, getting caught and don’t see shit
Running with killers of the grittiest kind
It’s Lou Armstrong
AKA The City Is Mine c’mon
Three things I hate girls, women and bitches
Spit venom I hock spit, Vivica licked it
Cynical fit a lyrical dick, I’m hot
My temp is dipped lyrical whip, I’m not
To be fucked with, Period lips
With them pyramids I’m buried with spirituals fixed next to me
Your whole crew is a terrible mix
I’m a Don you’re a pawn, America’s bitch
And you’re quick to verticle flip
Which means you snitch of heard of a tip bitch
Niggas skin you and turn you to mix
Magic, Similar to an Earvin was sick
Tragic, that’s wear to a turban that ticks
Flowing up memorial, sartorial showing it’s fixed
You’re an orphan and me I done fathered you
And often I’m awesome, The chips I done offered you
It’s big deal, But the deal might cost you
Hey Yo
Moroney, I’m the best bar none
These lame ass rappers got bars, None
I shit bars it’s a bar stool
High off hallucinogenics, looks like a cartoon
Spark tools, Harpoons are harm dudes
Wet 'em up while they in the whip, That’s a carpool
Your girlfriend is a bitch and you are too
But she’s down for the D too, so don’t argue
Anak-fly-talker Skywalker, high off a
That Sour Patch, holla back if you let your dollars stack
Cats try to hate but take pics and ask for autographs
Copy cats hang 'em up to dry like a towel rag
I told y’all I ain’t the runner up
I’m so high, I’m literally running up
Blunted up, with two L’s, that’s a double Dutch
I’m on the bottom she’s on the top, I’m cuming up
The beam ready homie, Got 'em dropping like right now
Them things heavy on me, Get 'em poppin' like right now
Y’all better back down, quiet or hype down
Or have some niggas right now, Lying your ass down
Cause when the beef come these niggas never there
We gonna bring it to your mans or whoever there
I got them dudes on the streets and they rubber band
Bullets crushing bones you can see we ain’t never scared
You can see that we everywhere
O-Town to Bean Town, BX to B-More
Still on the block trying to see checks to see more
We ain’t gonna stop till the whole team eat more
We Hit Makerz, we get paper
Get chicks to taste us, Berra said it the best
And we ain’t gonna stop never put it to rest
It’s HM motherfucker we the best of the best
Look we all need somethin' to believe in
And this world I live inside of yeah it’s trife
You can pray to Jesus Christ for your fuckin' life if you like
You can be the white picket fence type with the wife
You can knock her up twice, hang the fuckin' Christmas lights
From the pipes, You know that bitches trife
When you come home from work and you find her gettin' piped
By some jerk, Do you kill her with the knife?
'Cause the world crushed all that you believe in
And she’s livin' with the mailman in your crib
And your kid’s call him daddy while their Mama drive a Caddy
That those cocksuckers paid for with your bread
I would rather sip Goose from a plastic cup
Get sucked by my broad 'til I crash the truck
I would rather quit a job, where they treat me like a slob
Turn the motherfuckin' mall to a massacre
Swear to God I ain’t livin' like a dog
I’m taking what I want 'til I’m livin' in the prison or a morgue
Talkin' to myself the television isn’t on
Smokin' chron on the lawn writin' rhythms to a song
That’s who I been man, who I’ll always be
I’m stil the same kid back from them hallways G
So fuck you if the world’s against me
I’ll change the story all around I’mma emcee