| I got a six four Sting with the 302, bought it out
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| In the rap game, got fame, when I bought this house
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| Big seven thots swingin' when I barely bought it out
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| Seven three kellys, that’s a college rally thought abouts
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| Six nine seven, O’Malley, that shit’s not around
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| Six eight merril seven hunnid horses to the ground
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| Skinny’s on sticks in the back could cruise around
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| Used to drive around cars like that while we movin' yayo
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| You ain’t have to do like that, then who is you fo' real?
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| Dope boy thang, Pyrex when they lose the wheel
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| Stackin', young Bern, Tyrone how I used to feel
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| Follow connects to their cribs and then we moved on them
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| Ya don’t want them outta the shark, ya betta cool again
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| Riders with Beretta, we sharp, don’t wanna lose no man
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| Lose yo live from a sniper’s blast, got the wildest niggas
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| Treat my block like a diaper bag, I do it powderin' it
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| Doin' about 30 in a fly ass whip
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| Windows up, got it cloudy and shit
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| Rollin' up another joint, shotgun a bad bitch
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| And all she wanna do is smoke you and smoke weed
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| And got me feelin' like damn, I gotta be the man
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| I gotta be the man, she swear that I’m the man
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| Got me feelin' like damn, I gotta be the man
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| I gotta be the man, she swear that I’m the man
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| I’m feelin' like damn…
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| Paper licence plates on the Golden Gate
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| Interstate, grace playin' high stakes
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| Dice roll, winner takes all, tryna ball all, catch me if I fall
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| Risky business, stand on two feet, plant em in the quicksand
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| Can’t sink a man, cause I’m way quicker
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| Every night tryna fall asleep, 20 grand richer
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| Paint lyrics, though some niggas’ll never get the picture
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| Standin' on the planet, an artist with the canvas
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| Caravans and Lamborghinis and Ferraris Princeton
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| Nigga please, you couldn’t see me if you imagined
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| Wall Street Wolf got caught in the bear trap
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| Snap em, and half em, shit’ll get critical, Captain
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| Whisperin' about what happened, get yo show cancelled
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| More gas than you can handle, I done ran through
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| Gas like the station, ample to sample
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| I sent your bitch back with a handful
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| Doin' about 30 in a fly ass whip
|
| Windows up, got it cloudy and shit
|
| Rollin' up another joint, shotgun a bad bitch
|
| And all she wanna do is smoke you and smoke weed
|
| And got me feelin' like damn, I gotta be the man
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| I gotta be the man, she swear that I’m the man
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| Got me feelin' like damn, I gotta be the man
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| I gotta be the man, she swear that I’m the man
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| I’m feelin' like damn…
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| They smell the tatter on my big face, bills when I break em out
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| Used to call purple bounce lakers settin' 80 out
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| Sixty on my watch, might turn yo old lady out
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| No clouds in my eyes, two stones cost me 80.000
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| Dope boys love everything that I speak about
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| Wrap em up right over night, yeah, they leavin' town
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| Dacks is callin' me; |
| daddy why ya trick on my main bitches?
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| I be buyin' change, and yo main, wanna play pimpin'
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| Why so fresh? |
| Yeah, it’s stuck to my fingertips
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| This right here, only real playas read on this
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| Exotic weed, fast cars, few handle bars
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| Paper bag, money buried deep in my family yard
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| Few mill out the streets, still trafficking
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| Oh nah, sweared I’d never touch a pack again
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| Half a ticket, hand, count it in my cookie duffle
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| Smoke out the turkey bag, throw uncle Snoop a couple
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| Doin' about 30 in a fly ass whip
|
| Windows up, got it cloudy and shit
|
| Rollin' up another joint, shotgun a bad bitch
|
| And all she wanna do is smoke you and smoke weed
|
| And got me feelin' like damn, I gotta be the man
|
| I gotta be the man, she swear that I’m the man
|
| Got me feelin' like damn, I gotta be the man
|
| I gotta be the man, she swear that I’m the man
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| I’m feelin' like damn… |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cry , by - Berner. Song from the album 20 Lights, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп