Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Miles Davis, artist - Blu. Album song Miles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 16.07.2020
Record label: Dirty Science
Song language: English
Miles Davis |
| Swing, swing |
| Swing, wait, wait |
| Yeah, Miles Davis (My bad) |
| Uh, yeah, uh |
| I autograph my cash and called a cab |
| We on the map (Map), back in New York City like a Dodger cap |
| Blu, smooth like blue suede shoes |
| I told my homie, «Improve,» I’m Tim Allen with the tools |
| I built my booth, made of jewels, left a hole in the speaker |
| Stepped in the stu', no shoes, but got more soul than sneakers |
| Below the clouds holdin' the crown, a Coke, and a smile |
| But on the humble, word to mumbles, all balls don’t bounce |
| But yet, a thousand styles flip out when the DJ spins out |
| Hits out, spit back a hundred rounds |
| Pulled the clip out, the most dope |
| Niggas get roached tryna approach the host |
| We lay it down, yo, butterin' toast |
| And introduction to the pro, most fit |
| To hold his dick and spit |
| A loaded clip to hit the listener’s mitt |
| I invent too many patterns to pattern your path after |
| Tell them rappers that we got it mastered, yo |
| Miles Davis |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (The leader) |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (Trumpet) |
| Miles Davis |
| It’s kinda Blu, but kinda new, colossal too |
| My whole team supreme, it’s like a dream come true |
| I thought you new like the words to Brooklyn Zoo how we cook the stu' (Stu') |
| Homie my hook up might cut up, might hook your tooth |
| Salute the best of, niggas hear this and drop their best stuff |
| We next up, hop off the deck for your cassette bust |
| You couldn’t blow it, Coltrane in the mall |
| Playin' the funk but y’all need to be hangin' it up |
| You cats washed up, cuttin' with vets and got your paws plucked |
| Prison guards couldn’t lock ours, get your bars up |
| Bar none, nigga, Jay Barnes get the job done |
| We could be Siamese twins, still my squad won |
| My due, my rent late, I still pay dues |
| I’m too cool, too G, I sing the Ill Street Blues |
| Born in '83, still gettin' it in '82 |
| And ain’t a person on Earth who could fill these shoes |
| Miles Davis |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (Remember Miles) |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (Remember Miles) |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis |
| Yeah, uh |
| Ex, cut it (Cut it) |
| The black trumpet (Uh), you couldn’t strum it (Nah) |
| That instrumental hit, you in your stomach when you run it |
| Crowds plummet tryna touch it |
| The gold on it make you go out and crown somethin' |
| It’s the best, the next in the West |
| Cover your chest like Muslims cover their neck |
| Truth seekers summon my text, bi-coastal for bifocals |
| It’ll knock your trial over |
| You tryna chop with the top chef, try over |
| Who rhyme colder from California? |
| (Uh) |
| You catch pneumonia in the city Biggie wrote rhymes over |
| Blow tweeters out speakers like «Ether» through your aethers, yeah |
| Eat up receivers with the signal, I’ma leave ya |
| It’s the code of the street sweeper, the sleep, sleep |
| Deeper to the hair on my people, beatin' blocks with the single |
| I see you coverin' ass like Utah fans |
| But John Stockton couldn’t pass talkin' all that jazz |
| Miles Davis |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (Remember Miles) |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (Remember Miles) |
| Mi-Mi-Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis |
| Uh, Miles Davis |
| Miles Davis (Cuttin' loose with the band) |
| The leader, trumpet |
| Miles, Miles Davis |
| (Miles Davis cuttin' loose with the band) |
| Miles Davis |
| Swing, swing, swing |
| Oh, oh |