Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Day, artist - Curren$y. Album song Pilot Talk: Trilogy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 08.06.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Jet Life
Song language: English
The Day |
| Wack niggas sleep rappin' and woke up in trouble |
| Wack niggas with that sleep rap and then woke up in trouble |
| You were cool ten years ago, you fucking Lex Bubbles |
| Yeah |
| Brand new tires, Rollin down the same old strip |
| New party, same old chicks |
| I’m so sorry if I don’t look happy to be here |
| In your label office, but they said I can’t smoke weed here |
| Man, fuck it, I’m out |
| Black owned, and I’m 'bout it, fool |
| I got a studio in my house |
| Along with some the perks that come with my work |
| Pretty twenty-something sleeping in my Diamond Supply shirt |
| There is not a adjective to describe how I work |
| Hard is not enough brother I’m tougher |
| Wack niggas with that sleep rappin' and woke up in trouble |
| You was cool ten years ago, you fucking Lex Bubbles! |
| You gotta know when to hold em', know when to fold em' |
| Learn how to roll with the punches |
| Take em' to school give these niggas brown bag lunches |
| If it ain’t the Jets, then it ain’t nothing, yeah |
| Yo, the king closed his cloak, the set was overfull |
| Such a excellent moment, so emotional |
| He rushed out on the field, so devoted for |
| Final victory clutch, they went postal-code |
| Glory overload, hold up, hold my coat |
| Please! |
| Remember this day |
| This changes everything, we can do anything |
| Until you show anyway |
| My momma told me, «Son, always call a spade a spade» |
| Be like Chuck D never be like Flavor Flav |
| But that clock around his neck is so fly |
| And the way he complimenting Chuckie with that bow tie flow |
| Make me feel high so I’m gon' spit it my way |
| Excuse me as I do me cruisin' rudely down the high way |
| I’m young, black, intelligent, elegant, blasé |
| Back to the thesis |
| Back to to shooting craps and talking smack to the polices |
| Back to black and gold Ballys, Dickies with the creases |
| Pulling young’uns by the coattails, schoolin' em' who the beast is |
| I pray this flow is dumb enough, ugh |
| I pray my heart is DMC and Reverend Run enough |
| 'Cause I’ma throw my number up |
| I’m a throw some chicken bones and feathers on a hundred bucks |
| And summon up the thunder, what! |
| The voodoo man is coming, bruh |
| Can’t see the forest for the trees, it’s okay |
| I got my jigsaw and my lumber truck |
| Tell them boys their run is up |
| Yo, the king closed his cloak, the set was overfull |
| Such a excellent moment, so emotional |
| He rushed out on the field, so devoted for |
| Final victory clutch, they went postal-code |
| Glory overload, hold up, hold my coat |
| Please! |
| Remember this day |
| This changes everything, we can do anything |
| Until you show anyway |
| We ready for anything! |