| I hate driving at night
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| Just increase the chance Quality of Life gon' flash them misery lights
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| Stay home/write that Richard Price
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| But when the script don’t flip/right back at it like a neighbor on the pipe
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| Pick up/drop off/pick up/drop off
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| It’s just a job but you can’t never knock off
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| Gettin' old, goin soft or just seeing things for what they are
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| I’ma die up in this car/hunched over the wheel with a big roll of small bills
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| Tray fulla ash/quarter tank of gas/dog eared photos tapes to the dash
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| 18 years pushing this cab/from bush dimes to kush in the bag
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| Youthful crime to this is all I really have
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| Flash high beams on the boulevard of broken dreams/oh, you don’t know it?
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| Last exit off the road to riches and diamond rings
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
|
| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| They told me:
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| Woods, you need a new free project every month and a half and moving forward
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| The publicist only accepts cash
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| Something to think bout while I drive like when your connect retire
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| Introduce you to the new guy and he’s twenty-five/hmmmmmmmmm
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| The meter runs/release reefer in lungs/now we’re cooking with gas
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| Good times? |
| I ain’t have fun seems like errybody else had a blast
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| Your last tape was half-assed
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| Few weeks pass ya mans already got the microwave on rehash
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| That’s what’s hot on the local thoroughfares, huh? |
| Fuck it, ill take you there
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| Red light/the beast just stare/watching you try to play it cool
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| Everybody plays the fool/sometimes/hit the corner like we playing pool
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| Sink the nine
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| Moving goalposts them folks change rules/no reason or rhyme
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| I compete with great vigor within the lines that are painted, nigga
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| Now I’m out here graveyardin'/narrow margins/pathetic pantomime
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| Grey Gardens
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
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| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
|
| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
|
| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
|
| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
|
| Here, right?
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| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
|
| Here, right?
|
| Write the rhymes they wanna hear, right
|
| Here, right? |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hack, artist - Billy Woods. Album song Dour Candy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп