Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blaow, artist - Clear Soul Forces. Album song Still, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.02.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fat Beats
Song language: English
Blaow |
Aite hold up |
Is this thing on |
Still… |
Dropping that shit that’s making you wonder |
How are these niggas together for ten winters and the summers |
How Ilajide gunning, thinking we’d be running outta ammo |
Put the NPC in the Stallone nigga that’s Rambo |
Baby bu-bu-busting on ya, Tss! |
Tss! |
Tss! |
Tss! |
We puffing on ya |
Blow up like it’s a Samsung battery, ready to load up for ya |
Load up, soldier bringing the war upon ya |
Russo on ya |
Frank Castle hiding in the begonias off of the melatonin |
Sleep walking still chalking up lyrics to kill opponents |
Drop gems like The Mad Titan with mad arthritis |
Trying to assemble the gauntlet with every rhyme and |
Can’t stop using the time stone to hit rewind |
Every time I forget one of my lines |
Dropping land mines before I step in the building of America |
Gentrify the area |
White supremacy the remedy |
Who’s that peaking in my window, Jim Crow |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
Are you ready? |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
You know how we do |
Pay… pay… pay… pay… pay attention |
You… you… you gettin' knocked the fuck out like my Mike Tyson |
The… the… the… the whole crew get down |
Keep it going, I flow and knocking haters off a throne that people barely know |
they sitting on |
Throwing parties, making |
Shitting in the toilet, rolling up |
Getting fellatio, right up on the sofa |
With the Forces give a dose of superior focused on |
Delivered them faster than orders from Jimmy John’s |
Fuck up the opening |
Entrances intricate, beats known just to punish ‘em like you finish a |
Skull and crossbones, chicken wing your favorite rhyme spitter |
My loud as the Don Bishop |
Game spitters get pimp slapped just for clogging lanes |
Still the shit like wasn’t 46 |
I treat you all like a bowl of grits, ain’t nothing sweet |
L to the A to the Z nigga what |
I make ‘em holla like Ante Ups in your Impala |
hold ‘em up for the squadron |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
Are you ready? |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
Blaow! |
Hold that! |
You know how we do |
Pay… pay… pay… pay… pay attention |
You… you… you gettin' knocked the fuck out like my Mike Tyson |
The… the… the… the whole crew get down |