| Oh, here go that shit that you wish you could sound like
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| You pray for the soundbite
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| With your key on your sound kite
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| Your niggas close to broke trying to get your little sound right
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| Ladies, throw your titties in the air if it sound tight
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| I know, I fail to fit the mold
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| Bugatti down the road less traveled
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| You know I ain’t got one of those!
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| I be camel-back, practicing my humping for my hoes
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| And he sent me back just to snatch up everything y’all own
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| So I’m, back in the West End
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| Posted at the corner of despair and who cares
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| Giving niggas directions
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| A pair of Nike Airs and some fake injections
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| Somebody let me hold it 'cause the devil keep testing
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| Ain’t never had no people
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| Neither a team either
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| Give a fuck about my sneakers, I was raised in the creek
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| Where the luxury of weeping ain’t available you see
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| And the factory producing a new junky every week
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| But, Ain’t no way around it, Niggas like me had to creep up
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| Shake they ass down at the table with my feet up
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| Never seen us coming til' it’s over like the Reaper
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| Tell them girls, «Keep Up, baby I don’t need ya!»
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| I know it’s difficult you had it up to here with those
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| Flashy ass superficial milky nigga cereals
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| Hangin' with the crew I’m in
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| Wonder what they really on
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| I’m just tryna sing a spirit song and put my children on
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| Lil niggas know Rick Ross
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| But they don’t know they take home
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| Slow through my city like an elephant
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| Make this left on Langhorn, I’ll show you where the devil went
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| They wanna fuck us cause we militant, relevant, novelous, element
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| Dressed up like some better win
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| When I dream
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| It’s your skin I dream of
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| My body’s rare
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| Did you know this?
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| Oh, ooooh
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| Your eyes only see
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| I woke up to a set of manicured hands around my neck
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| The plan was to abandon after sex
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| But I, guess I dropped the ball on this one
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| (Guess I dropped the ball on this one)
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| And my stomach’s steady growling, growling
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| Cannibal on stage as I gaze into the crowd and decide who I’ll be chowing
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| Childish, major moves daily, daily, daily
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| Daily sprouting, out the fucking box that you tried to lock us down in
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| But still a nigga quite perturbed (oh well)
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| But these might be my last words (oh well)
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| And if you dare to look me in the eye for too long
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| Guarantee your eyesight gets blurred
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| I’m arguing with myself as my body starts to rebel
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| Like the cartilage in my legs was causing my knees to fail
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| I promise, I fuckin swear, I’m too honest to make it here
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| I’ma probably pull a Chappelle, get my dollars and disappear! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ultra Rare, artist - EarthGang. Album song Shallow Graves For Toys, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп