| 32 bars on how to rob and kill your neighbors
|
| Still got the nerve to ask God to save you
|
| The exhale got a whole different flavor
|
| Official policy: don’t do me no favors
|
| Oakland Raiders, empire in decline, but still got plenty paper
|
| Penny wise, pound foolish
|
| Bring the mountain to Mohammed
|
| Move pounds stupid
|
| A capellas, the beats chopped it and looped it
|
| Doing some minor keys, bars, and hooks
|
| Only option, cop the plea, it’s off the books
|
| This year, sync the rapping up, the (w)rapping's off, I can hear
|
| You rapping soft, no heart, defibrillate these niggas (Clear!)
|
| Problem with the army is they wanna be the boss
|
| Problem with secret police is it’s like a dirty gun you can’t toss
|
| President Banana, lips burnt on roaches o' bammer
|
| Bad idea, like borrowing money in the slammer
|
| Let’s get candid on camera
|
| When you hit the big screen don’t let whitey space jam ya
|
| Seeing green under rays, gamma
|
| Stunting shades, Ray Banner
|
| You will like me when I’m angry
|
| I got plenty of home trainin' and manners
|
| Bring me champagne when I’m thirsty
|
| Bring me reefer when I want to get high
|
| Lord have mercy, hope that ya heard me
|
| Y’all can’t hurt me, I’ve been feeling like this a long time
|
| Bring me champagne when I’m thirsty
|
| Bring me reefer when I want to get high
|
| Lord have mercy, hope that ya heard me
|
| Y’all can’t hurt me, I’ve been feeling like this a long time
|
| See folk, you used to son, lookin' at you like you’re broke
|
| And cats used to look up to him smoking coke
|
| That’s that rope-a-dope, negroes tryna float they boat
|
| At high school your mad shot was wet
|
| At junior college, though, they trapped the press
|
| Crowd you off that jumper, couldn’t even hit the net
|
| And they happy to see you back around the way
|
| Eager to front yay
|
| Rob, take a dutch off the blocks
|
| Slip it back in that roll like old slippers
|
| Game on tilt, working them flippers
|
| Start slowing down, the past will get witcha
|
| Five on five, nobody picked ya
|
| Ain’t no 'next', you out the picture
|
| Brown baggin' liquor
|
| You and her bicker
|
| Life crawling by the bottom of the screen like a news ticker
|
| At least you tried, right nigga?
|
| Put that syrup in the mixture
|
| Feeling like a vic, every sip helps the shoe fit ya
|
| Everything that glitters, all gold, ice cold, thrice-fold
|
| Catch the Holy Ghost and the Spirit waiting for Christ to call
|
| But it’s all business, even God waiting for the price to fall
|
| That’s how they do, y’all
|
| That’s life, might as well heist the ball
|
| Bring me champagne when I’m thirsty
|
| Bring me reefer when I want to get high
|
| Lord have mercy, hope that ya heard me
|
| Y’all can’t hurt me, I’ve been feeling like this a long time
|
| Bring me champagne when I’m thirsty
|
| Bring me reefer when I want to get high
|
| Lord have mercy, hope that ya heard me
|
| Y’all can’t hurt me, I’ve been feeling like this a long time |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Crocodile Tears , by - Billy Woods. Song from the album History Will Absolve Me, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп