| Put it under the needle and drop it on the one, boy
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| Your mama say that I be rappin' in my dad voice
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| Defense mech to protect me from the fuck toys
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| Joysticks, see me swerve through these asteroids
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| Life is good, V.G. |
| plus
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| But, yo, I still got that hunger to hold a box cutter
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| Let me carve my name in your security blanket
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| I’m sleepin' on a train on a sweat-stained mattress
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| I’m not expectin' company, hit the floor
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| If death comes for me somebody gotta get the door
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| You might choke on a sucker from the liquor store
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| We might get so high we don’t exist no more
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| I’m like smoke, I’m supposed to rise
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| That’s why you blow both of us towards the sky
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| So close the blinds and lend me your time
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| All of your enemies’ll eventually die
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| Pen game methane, Slug said to gas the shit
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| Spit flame just to keep the matches lit
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| They say I’m half insane, the other half immaculate, could you imagine it?
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| Whatever, I don’t like to shoot 'cause I’m just way too accurate
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| When they be at you they don’t ever at you, that’s the wackest shit
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| And ain’t too many bitches that can hang or even match my wits
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| I mean, I’ve had it up to here, I’m talkin' Atmosphere
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| 'Cause I don’t even talk to them, they say I’m too cavalier
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| I’m like your greatest livin' fear when I twist the gears
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| Gimme props, I ain’t have to drop a bitch in several years
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| I look at OGs as my only peers
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| So let me know when you done playin' in the snow, the slopes for real skiers
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| I’m droppin' real tears from laughin' at you weirdos
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| Drag you lil'— by your earlobes
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| Number one stunner, stone cold, below zero
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| Too dope, I’ma need more than one kilo
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| Oral Krylon, I spray all my style on
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| Mind brighter than them orange end zone pylons
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| Two hands from the zebra man
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| Instant replay says the play on the field stands
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| I pack the stands with my stanzas
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| My stans go bananas, it’s a bona fide bonanza
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| Word to Jason Alexander
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| Cus D’Amato of the culture, coulda cussed out Costanza
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| Fuck Trump and fuck cancer
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| Fans raise they hands but they ain’t got the answers
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| No performance enhancers
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| Six rings, piss clean, I ain’t takin' no chances
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| Who else could dance with the devil?
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| Samba with the mamba, Macarena with ya mama
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| Fuck a double entendre
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| Put it plain 'til I leave this plane, I’m a problem
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| Quick witted, sharp tongue, I don’t mince words
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| Plentiful supply, use strife as my cistern
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| Take it in stride but describe it uncensored
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| Wadin' through the pain, love, lies and adventure
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| Gotta ensure the time spent wisely
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| Pops' tenure didn’t outlast the Isley’s
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| Walk soft, big stick and a slight lean
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| Kept the Nikes clean when nights got unsightly
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| Last real hitter alive, bitch, I might be
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| Death swarmin', head forward, kept forgin'
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| Never fret or let 'em see me sweat when I was left for it
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| Records reflect what I rep once it get sorted
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| Duckin' twelve with bench warrants to gettin' bread tourin'
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| Can you dig it way deeper than the surface shit?
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| What the true meanin' and the purpose is?
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| Soul’s fiendin' for half the breathin' we burdened with |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Whenever, artist - ATMOSPHERE. Album song Whenever, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп