Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Headlines, artist - DJ Premier. Date of issue: 16.05.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Headlines |
| «Okay» |
| Yeah |
| You know what’s up, nigga |
| «My team, living this American dream» |
| Not a fucking game, nigga |
| Machine, bitch, Griselda, DJ Premier |
| Look |
| I don’t beef on the internet, I approach you |
| I ain’t shooting five with a nigga, I gotta smoke you |
| My dog said his box just landed, he got his load through |
| Drive by music, this shit he can pop his toast to |
| His chopper smoke and it adios you |
| My buzz bi-coastal, took the game over like I’m supposed to |
| I’m in position you cannot get close to |
| I got shot in my throat, still got four classics at my disposal |
| And the bitches admire my ways |
| I was wilding inside of a cage, now I set fire to stage |
| Every verse recited is wave |
| And I ain’t writing a page, hardest nigga out 'til I lie in my grave |
| Cook the white up in the microwave |
| You at work tryna get holiday pay, I’m on an island for days |
| Getting money like Big Meech '06 |
| This Griselda, DJ Preemo shit, motherfucker |
| Ayo, rich lord, poor lord, read the headlines |
| '04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes |
| Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line |
| Sell another brick and we copping twin fives (Skrt) |
| Ayo, out in Daytona, Rolex Daytona |
| Fiend hit it once, fell out into a coma |
| John Elliot, MAC-10s out the Rover |
| Might shoot it 32 times for the culture |
| Niggas bagging boy, rocking loverboy |
| Undercover neighbor, turn the oven on |
| It only had two bodies, I put another on |
| We sold a thousand bricks after summer gone |
| Drive-in, the forty-five with the potato lie in the right hand |
| Dyin' first them burglars flew on the high end |
| The prices won’t drop unless you buy ten |
| Hopped out the Lamborghini Urus like Guy Fish |
| In my cell reminiscing when I used to dime pitch |
| The rhyme sick, K in the 'Vette chain, Wang trench |
| «How you doin', Flygod?», same shit, bigger bag |
| Cocaine Cullinan' with the dealer tag |
| Ayo, rich lord, poor lord, read the headlines (Uh-huh) |
| '04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes (Yeah) |
| Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line (Uh) |
| Sell another brick and (Yo) we copping twin fives |
| I skip town with the money, my bitch the accountant |
| You ever try to board a plane with a brick in your outfit |
| You know I work hands on, had to sit in them houses |
| Learned from real drug dealers, not from internet browsing |
| Who cooked the food in the kitchen that they filling they mouth with? |
| (Me) |
| Then headed West like Deion when he split with the Falcons |
| Look at me and see a vision of Malcolm, slightly grinning |
| But long as we keep winning, I can live with the outcome, uh |
| Drake had Rihanna, Mike had Madonna |
| But I drove a few bricks through the Carolinas (Woo) |
| It’s true that they underestimate you when you’re modest |
| So I’m fronting on 'em every chance I get, to be honest (Nigga) |
| Ask about Griselda, they tell you that we the hottest |
| Flip whatever I can sell ya 'cause failure won’t be an option |
| Yeah, I sowed a block together like a seamstress |
| And I lived to rap about it on some Preem shit, let’s go |
| Ayo, rich lord, poor lord, read the headlines |
| '04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes |
| Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line |
| Sell another brick and we copping twin fives |