Lyrics 2025 - Dibì

2025

Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga? No!)
Fuck it, if they keep it, Ima get it by myself
I won’t stop to load the trophies just be chilling on my shelf
I see mama get a stroke, and that was fucking with my health
And we both know who was helping
It won’t come from nowhere else
This is twenty-twenty shit, take that Henny-Henny sip
And for VIP’s and they hop on any dick
Long as you got plenty chips, man, I see so many tricks
We’re in twenty-twenty-five and Dibi’s got so many hits
Pack it (Pack!), rack it (Rack!), rapping (Rap!), acting (Act!)
Anything can happen, come and see the magic
I got lil' kids around me might even be marrying (I might!)
I took rap to making riches and turned it to a habit (I did!)
I don’t really fuck with credit, only card I have is debit
If I roll it then I said it, I don’t think these niggas get it, hommie
I am in the future, never looking back
That’s like looking at medusa, whoosah!
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga? No!)
I’m from the future, I came here in a time machine that you invented.
Now, take me to the year nineteen-eighty…
I ain’t got time for this, plenty of these niggas are catching a fine for this
I ain’t got time for this, making a living, but I got to rhyme for it
I gotta grind for this, not gonna get it by standing in line for this
Putting my mind to this, smoking a joint while some wine and shit
I ain’t got time for this, plenty of these niggas are catching a fine for this
I ain’t got time for this, making a living, but I got to rhyme for it
I gotta grind for this, not gonna get it by standing in line for this
Putting my mind to this, smoking a joint while some wine and shit
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
Who’s that?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga? No!)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga?)
Who’s that chilling in my time machine?
(Ey, why you fucking with my time, nigga? No!)