Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Nigerian Email, artist - Billy Woods. Album song History Will Absolve Me, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.04.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Backwoodz Studioz
Song language: English
Nigerian Email |
The truth already set sail, I’m looking for reasonable doubt |
The check’s in the mail and I promise not to cum in your mouth |
I was born during a drought, I was born to a house divided against itself |
I was born into the mouth a well amidst poverty |
Dad died, they gave me his stuff |
I put a couple more notches in the belt |
Play the hand you dealt, DC on melt seeds poppin |
98 not gonna release your delta h meridian |
Bush weed got me feeling like a kid again |
Traffic island gilligan, dwb except the pat down like a second class citizen |
No need for the sugar coatin', have you seen any brothers on the moon? |
I got you open, Scott? |
with the shank you get cut and ganked gaffold leaking |
from the poking |
Big bank take little bank, Zimbabwean dollars what I’m holding so I’ll take |
that now |
Thanks,? |
with the boy golden |
Face bloated wrists frozen |
When he wave from outdated Soviet tank don’t be frontin like you dont know him |
Buried in fatigues soldier slim, i see murder in a crimson tie, george teague |
The overlook hotel is where I’ve always been |
Your frame of reference is Brick Squad |
Mine is Poppa Large, big shot on the East Coast |
Ain’t what it used to be, but I’ll take it |
I done boast cowardly threat, flow make shift |
Hey momma! |
I finally made it! |
No lie, son jumped out a third story window when we got raided |
My feet never left the floor, I’m on that James Naismith |
Soft spoken, unabraisive |
Politely asked whitey to loosen the bracelet |
Cuba Gooding his way out of central booking |
Hot date? |
I do the cooking |
Turns out she stays up in the Bronx, I’m in Brooklyn |
That commute ain’t appealing |
Best not forget your earrings |
Summer heat searing |
She’s dressed for it so of course the streets is leering |
My skin’s crawling, stomach turning |
This Bill Belamy cornball honking and swerving |
She hardly seem to notice, focused like bourbon |
Me? |
I break up trees on your fourth generation imitation Premier beats |
That’s definitely not the flavor |
And trust me you not doing the 90's no favors |
Louie the 14th in a clean glass piece slow motionley major |
Theme music for stolen credit card movements |
They caught the most etherest of vapor |
White suburb, black neighbor |
I’m high like black mayor |
Rivet city ransom |
But the hoe need no savior |
Sheesh, this hashish got me repeating myself |
I’m gonna go get the papers, get the papers |