| Box Chevy, No Tint
|
| Floatin inside… aquarium
|
| Yeah that’s him,
|
| Compository sketches is all
|
| They can’t catch us… Jet Setta’s
|
| I jointed the mile high club somewhere over texas
|
| Plotted my climb since the homie played the black lexus
|
| I told em put it all on spitta
|
| Guaranteed winner, then a go getta
|
| Ain’t gotta go no where, I already came here with it
|
| Pull up at the picnic El Camino on 13's
|
| Red nose pit bulls in the back, No leash
|
| Mu’fuckas well-trained, on the low I be havin that high grade
|
| Talkin bout how a nigga smoke n maintain
|
| That’s word from a bird and a fuzzy herb tree
|
| Fly tell that you ain’t heard that from me
|
| True vision and the impeccable timing
|
| Shine so the blinded don’t look twice
|
| My Fresh don’t it look nice
|
| Yo DNA ain’t the same pimp so naw you don’t look right
|
| Fuck it, I fast forward past yours…
|
| You wanted something to look up to so ask for it
|
| Mississippi country bumpkin with nothin to loose
|
| I BB a king so let me sing you the blues
|
| Let me lay down the rules,
|
| Get money by all means,
|
| Survive at all costs put god 'bove all things
|
| I fall Short… pimpin women with small shorts
|
| Reachin out for a smile like children and small folk
|
| Always above the rim like what do you ball for?
|
| If you ain’t spending money then what did u call for
|
| I look good for the fuck, but baby it’s all spoke
|
| The game is a bitch and shawty she all choke
|
| Came through to conquer
|
| We killin this since contra
|
| No sponser and I’m smokin on a mini launcher
|
| 8 grams nigga fuck with me
|
| Gotta have 8 lungs to come puff with me
|
| I don’t blow reggie bush, neva would
|
| This heavy kush, oh you got some too… very good
|
| With a grinder… we grinders, top rhymers
|
| Definers, drop gems so timeless
|
| Burn like a CD, get topped like ZZ
|
| Flow like agua and I’m cold like a ski beat
|
| Lawd… got them hood niggas quotin my bars
|
| And them bloggers like oh my gawd…
|
| Smokee robinson, earl james, and george kush
|
| Round table eatin pasta like mobsta’s
|
| Make a killin off sour D
|
| They lied money really do grow off trees… yes |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Skybourne , by - Curren$y. Song from the album Pilot Talk: Trilogy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп