Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Big K.R.I.T., artist - Big K.R.I.T.. Album song 4eva Is A Mighty Long Time, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.10.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: BMG Rights Management (US), Multi Alumni
Song language: English
Big K.R.I.T. |
Yeah, my creator gave me the gift to create |
And this mind of mine apply to our escape |
In an atmosphere that wouldn’t hold our weight |
If I leave from here, I’ll call when I’m safe |
Knocking on the door, hoping someone answers |
Yeah, I call that faith |
This mouth of mine has turned down water for wine |
I still recall that taste of bittersweet |
Like when I realize you’ll never be as perfect as the one that invented me |
And the world full of temptations can make you feel so incomplete |
Grow up to better than me, go farther than I can go |
See farther than I can see |
When my days draw to a close, breathe longer than I can breathe |
And I’m fine with that |
In the event that I decide to move forward what you’ve done |
They can rewind it back |
And I’m a proud parent now as I was a proud parent then |
I saw you grow up to become the kind of king that I knew you’d always been |
Indeed, there’s a finish line for me, but for you, there’s no end |
So, perhaps, all that work that’s been done was a win |
And although my intentions were for good, it still brung us to a sin |
But I’ll pay for your mistakes as long as this world continues to spin |
As this vessel of mine breaks down, I know you have never been |
I’m sure as Multi is your home, hard times will come again |
I set aside a book of rhymes that’ll pave the way for now and then |
I know «4eva is a Mighty Long Time», so where should we begin? |
On the Southside cuz' I’m a country bumpkin |
Bumping out the system, fuck if they don’t listen |
We done came a long way from niggas |
Throwing CD’s out the window like I made a frisbee |
Better than veteran rapper’s favorite rappers |
Conscious or trappers and I’m Mississippi |
Dirty Southern mothafucka kicking |
Like a red bucket with white top chitlins |
Shitting on niggas, my rhyme flow hands |
Behind back eyes blind fold |
Mind, body, and soul connected to the Most High |
Even when times got low |
Uh, look how they hate me, but copy me |
Possibly I was the one with components and properties |
To be the greatest of all time, but you won geography lottery |
So I keep kicking, flipping tables, chosen and favored |
Fuck being major when giant is greater |
Fortune and fame but you fuck for the label |
Truth is what made me |
Settle down, settle down, I was angry but I’m better now |
Niggas talking raising bars, mine amongst the stars |
Give it time to level out |
If you worried about the flow, I’ll make a beat |
Write you a hook that you repeat |
Even go as far to drop a mixtape that you re-do |
Never credit me, separately sold |
Slick as the Giuseppe on slippery floors |
Mop by the buckets that I used to hold |
While dreaming of plaques and selling out shows |
Multi-alumni forever the fours |