Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Fuck Fader , by - DanseRelease date: 12.01.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Fuck Fader |
| Hey everybody how are you doing? |
| This is my friend Mr. Gun, My special guest |
| Smith & Wesson says get your ass down |
| This is a stickup, real deal, real gun, full cooperation and no one gets done |
| You have to listen to words, because thats what I say… — Stop fucking rapping |
| man this is the real thing! |
| Young enough to hit your sister |
| Old enough to hit your mother dog |
| I’ll piss til you burn alive on that hover board |
| How you 40 and you just turned blood beloved? |
| Aim for your nose, leave a hole one inch above it |
| Im 6'1, 170, puff heavily |
| From Marborough between Cortelyou & Beverley |
| Kill the 1st one that ain’t in none of your pictures |
| OG told me thats the one that’ll get you |
| I just caught 30,000 bins on the arm |
| That could buy me the Fader cover and I’ll be on |
| But fuck Fader and any writer that sniffs salt |
| Never met a journalist GD at Pitchfork |
| I be in places you can’t Snap Chat |
| 40 niggas in 40 belows all blacks straps |
| You eating cereal, they shaving serials off that |
| Before I serve a feen I bet I’m making them snort crack |
| Pops told me click that back |
| When niggas try to jump you, Aim and split that hat |
| It’s Flatbush |
| I steal nigga, I don’t trap |
| Rubber grip, I don’t slip, I don’t lack |
| That’s a fact |
| 1st it was the shmoney dance |
| Now everybody dabbin in them funny pants |
| Niggas praying I don’t pop like a bungee band |
| Mothafucka In your face is where the lungy lands |
| You know my name side, know my side, know my set |
| Look nigga know my fly, see my jet |
| No nigga, you get fly then you get wet |
| Team Nike, I say ride then you get checked |
| Ride! |
| Flex drop a bomb over Baghdad |
| Ask your dad’s dad I been in my bag bag |
| Whipping in the kitchen like it’s bad bad |
| Body niggas you can put them in a Glad bag |
| Tell them niggas it’s a stickup |
| A chest shot will hit them like a hiccup |
| Get a road we gon' drag him with the pickup |
| Headshots we don’t want to fuck his strip up |
| All we want is our respect |
| And our Brooklyn niggas shooting shit and its nothing but net |
| Danse these niggas don’t want to dance |
| Put them in wheelchairs these niggas don’t stand a chance |
| I knock a block off with that block soft |
| Got my rocks off because I was doing drop offs |
| All i wanted was a gun and a drop Porsche |
| Now that’s an and1 with the Hot Sauce |
| I cross over like PitBull, the clip full |
| You trying to guard God, you going to get your card pulled |
| 80 block, Broke and Trippy grab your blicky |
| All you niggas can walk because we running the city |
| Eat! |
| Y’all made these blog writers rock stars |
| Paying them for a post saying you got bars |
| Retaining them, like they lawyers and you just got charged |
| Praying to a punk with the pen nigga that’s not God |
| A label asked me, you been up on Fader yet? |
| I told them «nah because I ain’t pay that retainer yet» |
| 6k a month? |
| nah this AK will jump |
| I don’t rock Thrasher you Bastard, you sniff a 8th of bumps |
| Uhhh, and I don’t like that shit |
| Don’t spit it like its you if you ain’t write that shit |
| Just because you don’t see a ramp, don’t mean your bike can’t flip |
| Because you could fucking get left off a right hand click |
| It fucks me up when a nigga gets shot who ain’t supposed to go |
| Like I set the pick and he popped when he was supposed to roll |
| Summertime, used to play the freezer in western beef |
| For AC, now it’s AC with extra heat |
| Pook uptop, with minute rice in a blue bowl |
| Black spoon, you know that he mixing it wit the pulpo |
| I still got the jugo |
| I be in traffic with drops on my iWatch nigga to snatch your Hublot |
| Because fuck staying patient |
| When you from a place where you inhaling the air and the Fragrance is so |
| flagrant |
| And it’s so blatant that satan is advocating this hating |
| And wing niggas are advocating this faking |
| Rap turned to wrestling and wrestling is all fake |
| Until you Blue Blazer the fake shit and real blood hits the apron |
| Ask Nashawn if I was on Vyse Ave |
| Brooklyn nigga, but uptown love my swag |
| Word to Doe and word to Dark and them |
| I ain’t with the bitch shit, but This shit’ll spark when it bark and I’m |
| Candace Park’n em |
| Yeah, it’s Double D, no Teta Pad |
| Y’all niggaas must’ve smoked a Wepa Bag |
| Thinking you this nice |