Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Screams from the Grave , by - Blackburner. Song from the album Bass Warning!, in the genre ЭлектроникаRelease date: 30.09.2013
Record label: Hypnotic
Song language: English
Screams from the Grave |
| This that get 'em sound |
| This that get it down |
| This that 2 step, wheel shaker, spin around |
| This that pick a clown, size him up, try ya luck |
| Playa hate, grill him down, lemme see you twist ya frown |
| They got guns, well maybe they’ll squeeze |
| I’m a piano I got 88 keys |
| Mami sniffed it, it went to baby brain |
| Rode the subway now I’m on the gravy train |
| What you call balling, all y’all boring |
| Knock his teeth on the grill, «Paul Wall foreman» |
| All these pricks, I took weed trips |
| «Tore the club up», yep, on that 3 6 |
| I’m the realest of cats, and I’m still where it’s at |
| I been broke with the South, trill to the trap |
| Stealing, wheeling caps I been peeling them back (back) |
| We dealing you squealing, we killing the rats (rats!) |
| Santana… KILL EM KILL EM KILL EM, KILL EM! |
| J.R…GRILL EM GRILL EM GRILL EM, GRILL EM! |
| I will pop you while I’m popping a pop-a-wheel |
| Paid In Full not the deal… put him in Potter’s Field |
| DON’T STOP, GRILL EM! |
| DON’T STOP, GRILL EM! |
| DON’T STOP, GRILL EM! |
| DON’T STOP, GRILL EM! |
| DON’T STOP, GRILL EM, GRILL EM, GRILL EM, GRILL EM, GRILL EM |
| DON’T STOP, GRILL EM! |
| Mr. Ruger picture a coward confronting me |
| Nature’s mad because the trunk is in the front of me / (foreign) |
| Gangsta’s on In the back of me, hammer on the hip of me |
| Hand full of piffery, damn I know they sick of me |
| They gon' say the boy’s the hardest this year |
| And I’m a G so, I’mma eat regardless this year |
| Come to the crib, yeah it’s retarded in there |
| Big screens, suede couches, bunch of marble in there |
| Damn, undercover hating, shit just let it out |
| And why ya hair done ma, all you gon' do is sweat it out |
| Go through any nigga town and Dipset it out |
| Shit they’d rather set him up then just set him out |
| Make these nigga’s bleed, make 'em blood donors |
| And they don’t wanna let me in, smack the club owner |
| Got shades on, I’m always high bitch |
| You looking at a star, I ain’t even in the sky bitch |
| This that get 'em sound |
| This that get it down |
| This that 2 step, wheel shaker, spin around |
| The sporty is foreign, shorty’s adoring (all day) |
| Fuck if the couches are suede, my Mauries are on 'em (fuck it) |
| I’m fresh head to toe check how bad the don bling |
| A thousand grams, chain got a Barry Bonds swing (bling!) |
| I get her with the swag, then get 'em with the Jag (errrr!) |
| What’s on my left sleeve is what get 'em to the pad |
| Them chickens in a bag, you ain’t fresh in my eyes |
| I ain’t doing nothing to her but she’s letting me slide |
| From the floor to the bathroom, hall to the backroom |
| Then dog out the whore, on his balls like a vacuum |
| Mack 'em and duck to the back of the bus |
| She’s a scraggler and yup, she ain’t wack but she sucks |
| If you act like a scrap then in back is a truck (with what?) |
| Where they packing a Mac with some caps for you smucks |
| Huh, I can’t stand to slouch, you know what fam’s about |
| She ask to see my grill so I pulled the Phantom out (look at this grill) |
| This that get 'em sound |
| This that get it down |
| This that 2 step, wheel shaker, spin around |
| This that pick a clown, size him up, try ya luck |
| Playa hate, grill him down… lemme see you twist ya frown |