Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rpms, artist - Billy Woods. Album song Today, I Wrote Nothing, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.03.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Backwoodz Studioz
Song language: English
Rpms |
Bucket seats |
Back of the squad car, ridin' |
Through smudged glass, concrete, wrought iron flyin' |
Knees jammed, sea legs, dry land |
Cuffed hands, mouth fulla sand |
Thick, stone in the shoe |
Still talk slick like, «I'll be home in a few» |
They’re amused, took the right on Throop |
Came down Hewes, chills like the flu |
Thoughts of the box, a hundred niggas just like you |
Warm milk and mayonnaise, nobodies scratch they names |
Empty vessels, grindin', mortar to pestle |
Moon hang, jaundiced bezel |
Engine wrestle, up blocks |
Radios crackle with fired shots, knockos on that no-knock |
«Who's there?» |
They smell fear |
Front windows down, weed in the air |
Brown bag beers |
Grilling on aluminum foil, Summer nights, slow boil |
Driving slow, just to be jerks |
Negroes watch like it’s a hearse |
Dug deep, gave the whole hood that Max B smirk |