Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Nothing, artist - Chris Rivers. Date of issue: 13.07.2017
Song language: English
Nothing |
| Running, running, running |
| Twenty, fifty, hundreds |
| Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like |
| Running, running, running |
| Money, money, money |
| Ad-lib, ad-lib, nothing, nothing, nothing |
| Running, running, running |
| Twenty, fifty, hundreds |
| Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like |
| Running, running, running |
| Money, money, money |
| Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing |
| Homegrown, like you don’t roam, like an old phone |
| Never spoke low, like a hobo |
| Like I’m solo, like I dope smoke |
| Tell my old foes, that I blow holes |
| Like the O-zone, whole globe (no) |
| Sky is falling, sirens calling |
| Silence coffins, lie here often, wondering |
| If I’ve been chosen, this is hell, than why’s it cold |
| And if it’s heaven, than why’s it open (hmm)? |
| Did I earn this, am I burning |
| Am I earnest, am I burdened, world is circling |
| And it’s turning, and it’s hurling |
| Why does it feel like nothing’s moving |
| Something’s coming (hmm) |
| Stuck Illusions, someone’s bluffing |
| Someone’s human, guns and cuff him |
| Red and blues and all the hues and colours |
| If it’s white then it is right, if not than it gets shot |
| All the teachers, all the preachers |
| All the doctors, all the leaders |
| They just lead us, by the liters |
| Blood is dripping, cups are filling |
| They defeat us, take our sneakers (hmm) |
| Soldiers leave us, mostly because |
| Most believe just, what they teach us |
| What they feed us, it’s not real when |
| They all smiling, Mona Lisa |
| Running, running, running |
| Twenty, fifty, hundreds |
| Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like |
| Running, running, running |
| Money, money, money |
| Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing |
| Running, running, running |
| Twenty, fifty, hundreds |
| Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like |
| Running, running, running |
| Money, money, money |
| Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing |
| Lord I feel an empty feeling |
| Hopeless losing focus |
| Niggas fake that hocus pocus, poke the soulless |
| Wake and smell the folgers |
| I wrote this for soldiers |
| Nigga they took the barrel from their head |
| And kept going and going |
| And life dealt them a shitty hand |
| And no-one to hold them |
| Felt broke, like I don’t wanna fucking wake another day |
| Self loathing, bitch this is the end no Seth Rogan |
| Niggas hurting, not for certain, might be curtains, life is urgent |
| Vodka washes away the pain, just like detergent |
| You sit back in white suburban |
| Not disturbed by cops that split, that’s like a serpent |
| Prey on blacks and browns that don’t comply |
| The right to merk 'em, quite discouraging |
| Why concurring them, white conservatives |
| Don’t empathize, no light preservatives |
| I feel worthless, that’s America |
| Why they scared of us, like we’re predators |
| Knights beheading us |
| Hang our babies, burn our homes |
| The white confederate, hide your etiquette, hide your melanin |
| Yes sir, no sir, free to go so fly little pelican, fly little Pelican |
| I feel elegant, high of medicine, light the hell |
| When they can tell a nigga shit with no intelligence |
| Too busy getting lit and that’s irrelevant |
| Now all I hear is |
| Running, running, running |
| Twenty, fifty, hundreds |
| Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like |
| Running, running, running |
| Money, money, money |
| Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing |
| Running, running, running |
| Twenty, fifty, hundreds |
| Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like |
| Running, running, running |
| Money, money, money |
| Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing |