Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Carry On , by - Lon DiniRelease date: 22.12.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Carry On |
| A couple of shots’ll make a nigga fumble the rock |
| I’m like Jay, I can juggle the Roc, watch |
| So they say I’m Def Jam on the block |
| Even if the tech jams, still able to pop |
| Show me a label to sign, my cable’ll watch |
| Earrings what you pay for a yacht, imagine that |
| I don’t shop in the places you cop, nope |
| The difference if it’s basic or not |
| I’m a fly nigga, S.I., Killah Hill til I die |
| Nigga get a bird, know this head when I ride with her |
| I’m a side better, got gwop, I remember |
| Trynna get along and nobody would lend a |
| Helping hand, heed, I can melt the sand |
| Like Kanye West, diamonds in my hand |
| Every winter clothing, if you notice |
| Plus cold this, like a nigga still posing |
| I used to carry on like |
| Running the streets, acting a fool |
| Stick 'em up, yeah, I’m snatching ya jewels |
| I used to carry on like |
| Clapping the heat, smack at ya teeth |
| You out of place if you happen to speak |
| I used to carry on like |
| I used to carry on like |
| Say I changed, crowds scream my name |
| It’s Russian Roulette, you play games |
| Say I, tussle to death, for cash it’s nothing to sweat |
| Want cop no customer checks |
| It’s sex, drugs and guns, I lust for ones |
| Play the ave for it’s something to run, I’m dumping you one |
| From Park Hill, never ran, never will |
| Murderer now that Ja Rule gone, but never kill |
| I’m better than I’ll, a veteran still |
| My darts might sever ya grill, Gil told me to chill |
| I fill blunts like packaging ville |
| Wild drunk won’t crash at the wheel, like Navy SEALS |
| Beef, more gravy to the mills |
| And these ladies act shady over deals, middle fingers up |
| Fuck you too, Wolf Pack what up with ya crew? |
| He’s a pussy, that’s just something to do |
| I used to carry on like |
| Fuck with a chick, they lust for a stiff |
| They all open off of hundreds I get |
| I used to carry on like |
| Blowing some cash, rolling some hash |
| Make sure a ass hope I go in the stash |
| I used to carry on like |
| I used to carry on like |
| Fuck with me, I have ya family lined up |
| Shot and hung from a tree |
| Niggas knew I’d be a threat if the right man discover me |
| Killing this shit, I got the whole Shao' loving me |
| From my style there is no equal, good shit take time |
| Like Method Man dropping The Prequel |
| Lon Dini back with lethal to feed you, word is |
| I fell off, you can hate, punk fag, I don’t need you |
| Speak Dini through Nicky, anytime or Debo |
| Nicky, Trife pose, set up my nigga Castro |
| Vintage on my first verse, as I’ll as my last |
| But on the streets push butter, gutter speak to his kids behind bars |
| Crime blood for all my niggas living hard |
| Tell 'em I’m the truth, but they didn’t believe |
| I do crime, get to the Earth, and with shackling beat |
| I rob the streets hard like Earlacker, hustle like my life don’t matter |
| Nothing there, to make ya brain splatter, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| I used to carry on like |
| I get it for cheap, flipping it weak |
| Some see the heat, still drip on the beast |
| I used to carry on like |
| They rip when I speak, muscle ya cheeks |
| I was looking for some trouble to beef |
| I used to carry on like |
| I used to carry on like |