Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fine Wine, artist - Chris Webby. Date of issue: 05.09.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Fine Wine |
| I wrote this shit for Flex to drop a bomb on it |
| It’s over when I’m on it |
| Static bring it back with a scratch, and throw fire on it |
| I got five on it |
| Unless it’s that chronic, I got a dime on it |
| Everything the light touches is sayin' mine on it |
| Slide on it like a water park, ride on it |
| Acid in my headband, kiss the sky on it |
| Treating beats like John Belushi |
| Countertops with all these lines on it |
| Aim for the top and I keep my eyes on it |
| I’m an animal on everything like Echo shirts |
| You try to follow my every rhyme, and your head’ll hurt |
| The way I write, I consider it academic work |
| An extra-terrestrial being that was sent to earth |
| Just a kick in the doors |
| Deliver you more rhymes than you could ever write |
| Plus they’re slicker than yours |
| Don’t wanna co-sign me? |
| cool |
| Someone give me the torch and I’ma sit up on my throne like the King of the |
| North |
| Rockin Timb’s with the tongue out |
| Smoke till I bug out |
| Night crawlin' on 'em, never see me when the sun out |
| Rookie of the year, lighting bogies in the dugout |
| So try to find your balance, I’m about to pull the rug out, yeah |
| So you better get the fuck out here |
| Words hazy in my mind but they come out clear |
| All these metaphors I got, I’ll never run out |
| I’m 'bout to pitch a shut out |
| I’ll come at anyone out here |
| So bitch you better keep your head low |
| Do it 'cause I said so, retro |
| Reppin' for New England like I’m Bledsoe |
| Can’t afford a Benz, so I’m riding on the metro |
| Arm out the window, flipping birdies like a Petco |
| Yo |
| See Web the one your lady look for |
| Jesse Pinkman of the game but I cook more |
| Yank a cop up out his driver seat full force |
| (I need back up here, get the fuck off me!) |
| Call it pulled pork |
| Was just a MySpace rapper, 'til I broke through |
| Made a little money, and I blew it with my whole crew |
| Used to pop molly every week, I was so loose |
| Brain full of holes, just like Sunny at the toll booth |
| Left that bullshit in the past, and went Goku |
| Super Sayan till I got a mansion with a dope view |
| Shit this beat is cold, juice |
| Got that fresh produce |
| Turn the studio into a Whole Foods |
| So shit you better get a medical check |
| I’m so sick, when I spit |
| Every syllable I said will infect your whole body |
| Immune system sensing a threat |
| It’s imminent, yes |
| My excellence ahead of the rest |
| Untouchable, like Elliot Ness |
| See Webby finesse |
| I’m benching, negative press |
| While I’m flexing my chest |
| A super human mutant, go give my genetics a test |
| My life’s a never ending segment of that Edelman catch |
| I’m Tesla with some Edison meshed together, and bet |
| There ain’t no mother fuckin' way that I’ll be second to best |
| Cause I’ma settle every settlement, won’t settle for less |
| The top soil and the sediments, the scent of my breath |
| Been underground |
| But I’ma dig the fuck up now |
| Bout to show 'em what the fuck’s up now, yeah |
| I’ve been underground |
| But I’ma dig the fuck up now |
| Bout to show 'em what the fuck’s up |
| Fine Wine baby |
| Time keeps on ticking |
| We can’t worry 'bout those minutes leaving |
| I’m grown up and I’m living decent |
| But I’m gonna touch the sky |
| Time goes by |
| Keeps on ticking away |
| But I’m only getting better with age, said I’m getting better with age |
| Fine wine |
| Time goes by |
| Keeps on ticking away |
| But I’m only getting better with age, said I’m getting better with age |
| Fine wine baby |