Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Artifacts , by - Barclay CrenshawSong from the album Barclay Crenshaw, in the genre ЭлектроникаRelease date: 26.01.2017
Record label: STX&BRX
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Artifacts , by - Barclay CrenshawSong from the album Barclay Crenshaw, in the genre ЭлектроникаArtifacts |
| Everything expires but not the fuel to my fire |
| Every toke I’m higher skyscraper like the Empire |
| Brooklyn nigga I’m Goliath |
| Too stoned, whenever light up |
| I deliver like I’m Midas |
| Straight gold not even tryin' |
| Gs move in silence, surveillance around us |
| Search for Nirvana souls get eaten by governed piranhas |
| Open your iris to to the signs and the omens beside us |
| That’s why we ridin' with the shotty Gears of War don’t try us |
| I keep an AK in my trap door lift the wood you’ll find it |
| I took a vacay from the rap game and I’m still the flyest |
| I fornicate and puff Grade A while on resorts and islands |
| Seen all sorts of violence |
| Took some losses through it all I triumph |
| They can not break a G O D stackin' the K 'till he obese |
| Switch my lanes like Need for Speed |
| Use my brain like NZT |
| A cast away, you lost at sea |
| Try ride the wave but you ain’t G |
| Ain’t no time for perpetrators only real, my team supreme |
| Hey |
| Everything expires but not the fuel to my fire |
| Every toke I’m higher skyscraper like the Empire |
| Brooklyn nigga I’m Goliath |
| Too stoned, whenever I light up |
| I deliver like I’m Midas |
| Straight gold not even tryin' |
| Took the crucifix up off my neck ain’t got no time to pray |
| I’ve been sticking to myself in constant battle with my faith |
| I be floatin' round the city only fake shit in my face |
| Demons taking over everything real quick like ándale |
| See we living in a holocaust this is a silent war |
| But I kick back burn the connoisseur and hit like Molotov |
| All my pages kinda soft, got a problem knock em' off |
| Chop em' up like we in store now that’s a dinner for my dog |
| I grew up on Lil' Weezy man shout out to Hollygrove |
| Told me check that fettuccine like I’m whippin' on the stove |
| I remember growin' up these niggas took me as a joke |
| Now I came up out the back I’m imitating Rosa Parks |
| Standing like they down for somethin' |
| They ain’t bout' nothin' |
| Acting like they out here really stuntin' |
| They mostly frontin' |
| No I bet you keep your job up bustin' |
| I bet he bluffin' |
| Nigga’s softer than my mother’s muffin |
| Move like McLovin |
| Ain’t a saint livin' amongst us see we all fuckin' sinners |
| And the ones inside the Church they mostly lost than delivered |
| Got a global dominance to make the war fuckin' finished |
| If you really got the world inside your palm close your fingers |
| Do your thing, you can pray up to the Lord for your riches |
| But the bigger picture niggas fuckin' poor in the scripture |
| Grip the cross around my neck like take control and defend us |
| Demon on my shoulder said that Jesus gone 'till November |
| Lawd… |
| When I’m on the record like Guiness I’m passin' limits uh |
| Travel like I’m moving my pivot I gotta get it bruh |
| Shorty fell in love with my image I lift her spirits up |
| A privilege if AK tryna hit it her man be wit' it |
| Offer after offer give your daughter to this author |
| Give her life, nobody taught him |
| On this shit had to work hard for |
| An iller breed with ignorant tendencies |
| That hot shit I deliver so I know they remember me |
| Like fiends they comin' back bumpin' your shit made em' relapse |
| I got the Buddha, got the Jack |
| Lil' mama where you at |
| For all this karma got my back |
| But we still mobbin' with this track |
| Like a toddler in Iraq, with the knowledge we the gat' |
| Standing like they down for somethin' |
| They ain’t bout' nothin' |
| Acting like they out here really stuntin' |
| They mostly frontin' |
| No I bet you keep your job up bustin' |
| I bet he bluffin' |
| Nigga’s softer than my mother’s muffin |
| Move like McLovin |
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