| Three Americans stopped for provision at a store owned by Jose Andrade
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| Andrade gave an accurate description of as being one of them
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| Another witness stated that three men came out of the store and drove away in a
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| green Civic bearing the same plates
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| This confirms that they‘re in it
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| Seems to be heading south, alright
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| Staying clear of all main highways
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| Exactly
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| (Staying clear of all main highways)
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| Stand for somethin' to fall down the steps
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| And I hope you break yo' neck before you reach the bottom
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| 'Cause we don’t need you on this planet if you causin' problems
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| And we don’t need you on this planet if you worship dollas
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| These bitches claim they understand it when a nigga talkin'
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| But I know I left they ass behind like the rapture started
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| Call the snap department tell 'em its a rogue engineer in the soul of this
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| nigga here
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| I’m my biggest fear, nothin' interferes when my mind is clear
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| Mulatto hit my phone like, «Baby what you want? |
| Get inside of here.»
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| And I’ll oblige, might even spend the night
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| Might even cook some eggs if I like the way she ride
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| Strugglin' with leavin', strugglin' with stayin'
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| A hundred different reasons ricochet in my skull
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| Just like a hundred different demons like to play with my soul
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| Yeah, the mothership is beamin' but I ain’t goin' home
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| So when you see a nigga heels leave the window sill
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| Tell the world they couldn’t keep me if I keep it real
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| And when my body layin' shattered, blood splattered on the street
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| Cover me so my momma and my girl don’t see
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| Breast and beef on some bon appetit
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| Talkin', talkin', he talkin' to you or talkin' to me
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| Sharp teeth whenever the young beast release
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| Talk cheap, either they cool or they bang heat
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| Think I’ll get in the game and let a nigga flame me?
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| Pulp Fiction, niggas be Ving Rhames and Damon
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| Dig deeper used to be in that Coupe
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| Really hangin', I hangin' with Mr. Cooper
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| Had that Bun B and Pimp C playin' fuck is you sayin'
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| These drugs, you wan' try?
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| My homegirls got mushroom for fun guy
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| Lick my gun good you gobbled it tongue tied
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| Said she fuck with my sw- my sw- my feng shui
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| Ok me and my niggas is what you would call killas
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| Everything we touch they guaranteed to feel us
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| Me jittered fill up the tank and weed pillars
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| Couple niggas shootin' the shit like we Billups
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| Take a pull we hiccups
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| Kush in the inside of expensive vehicles
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| Me nigga, JID, Khaled, we nigga
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| 'Cause everywhere we go it’s never just me nigga
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| While you was king of the farm
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| Slave to the norm
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| I was sleepin' in two sweatshirts and a coat to stay warm
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| Sleepin' in a dorm, bank account throwin' up signs like be warned
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| A nigga was reborn into the cosmos
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| God’s kitchen, chillin' in that pot roast
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| Monuments and pyramids way before we rock most
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| Momma sat that baby down put that knowledge pie close
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| You better eat your Wheaties now, see these people greedy child
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| And they’ll take your eyesight out your fingertips like Stevie
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| Steal you from your villages, ship you 'cross the seas
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| Then starve the textbooks until they malnourished and needy
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| Now yo' kids flippin' pages like «Momma I don’t see me.»
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| See underneath that makeup and them J’s be a people who knew the sun first
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| To the world we gave birth and they still rapin' Africa for everything it’s
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| worth
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| So I stand here black and proud fistin' air hell yeah
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| Hair kinkier than a muhfucka’s how I like to wear
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| Pick out a struggle like some starvin' ass hungry bears
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| I ain’t gotta hustle I’ve been doin' it for a thousand years |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Exactly, artist - EarthGang. Album song Shallow Graves For Toys, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп