Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song We Here , by - Big Kuntry KingRelease date: 29.09.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
We Here |
| You know who this is mayne |
| Big Kuntry King |
| Uh c’mon |
| South Cack, North Cack, GA, Tenn-A-Key, Alabama, the whole Florida, the 'Sipp, |
| Louisiana, Texas |
| We here |
| My swag is sauced up |
| I, is bossed up |
| Trap is ralled up |
| Pockets is racked up |
| Cars they sit up |
| Flow is flawless |
| And she know, and he know |
| Ya’ll nothin' like us |
| And we here, and we here, and we here, and we here |
| And uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, yeah |
| And we here, and we here, and we here, and we here |
| Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, yeah |
| I’m a big dawg, (dawg) yeah real boss, (boss) |
| Ya’ll best rappers, (what) I’m a real one |
| I don’t wear ones, (yeah) just Louie V, (yeah) |
| Antique wife beater wit a white tee, (yeah) |
| And my big jewels make me look outstandin' |
| I’m surprised half you wack niggas still standin' |
| I ain’t even got a album, girls throw me panties, (oohhh) |
| I’m so hot, you might as well fan me |
| So up the ante, Grand Hustle a hammit |
| I’m tap dancin' on niggas like I’m Sammy |
| Streets only got one phrase for me |
| God damnit, I’m so arrogant I know ya can’t stand me |
| I got them bandana shawty’s, (shawty) |
| Hundred rack homies, (homie) |
| Goons and the goblins, yeah they kill for me, (yeah) |
| Plus I’m killin' em, (yeah) game I be killin' it, (yeah) |
| What these rappers rap about I be really livin' it |
| Yes I’m illy bitch, so sick, ain’t no healin' this, (what, nah) |
| Niggas talkin' funny like they full of helium, (aye) |
| Not even realizin' that I’m the one that’s feedin' them |
| Million dollar trap that’s me, cocaine rap that’s me |
| Got it from yo middle man, where he got the work for me |
| Niggas talkin' shit but I’m the one they cannot see |
| Ya’ll nothin' like me, a gangsta you’ll never be |
| You feelin' me, (yeah) well you oughta nigga, (okay) |
| Cause these rappers change like leaves in autumn nigga, (that's right) |
| These rappers get soft after every record, (yeah) |
| While I’m spittin' that soft on every record, (yeah) |
| They want my residue off of every record, (yeah) |
| I’m the hardest in the south, I guess I’m sellin' records, (yeah) |
| And for the record, you need to recognize, I’m the big homie, point, period, |
| underline |
| Yes I’m runnin' the court, trappin' like it’s a sport |
| Still spendin' money in the club but love no whore |
| Still run clean while you suckas be hatin' boy |
| Still be the one from the hood that’ll die for |
| Yeah |
| Yeah |
| Yeah |
| We here, we here, we here, we here |
| Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh |
| Yeah |
| Yeah |