| All you fools just sound the same
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| Ain’t no credit to your name
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| Ain’t no credit line open, that’s discrediting the fame
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| Form your business in the name, something unique like a slain
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| Make a difference, make a change
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| But ain’t no puppets on a string
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| Don’t be chilling on the couch, remember this is for the clout
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| Remember this is for the poor niggas that’ll represent you when you’re out
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| Forget you when you need your friends, fuck it we just meet again
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| All my niggas need a plan, cos all my niggas need to win
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| Always was a winner even when I wasn’t 'posed to
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| The money getting bigger as if it wasn’t supposed to
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| Just a lonely nigga, talk too much to myself, need a break
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| On July 8th broke down heaven’s gates
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| Now watch, they high all day
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| Fuck you leaving, fuck all evening
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| Call me mister fuck all day
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| Trap all day and night
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| Don’t need a house much less you ‘bout some change
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| Expand my conscious, tryna' walk on water
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| Feel the earth on me
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| You hatin', I’ll be somewhere slayin' bitches by their face on me
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| Catch a fake, with an eighth on me
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| Not phased, don’t pass that shit homie
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| Cough, smoke, cough, got my shit sealed off
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| ‘Bout to put some in the air, ‘til a nigga doze off
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| Cos you got some shrooms, I got a room
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| You and me ‘til we reach the moon
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| Never wore a disguise, love the skin I’m in
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| You trade your soul for fame, we ain’t built the same
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| All you fools just sound the same
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| Ain’t no credit to your name
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| Ain’t no credit line open, that’s discrediting the fame
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| Form your business in the name, something unique like a slain
|
| Make a difference, make a change
|
| But ain’t no puppets on a string
|
| Don’t be chilling on the couch, remember this is for the clout
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| Remember this is for the poor niggas that’ll represent you when you’re out
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| Forget you when you need your friends, fuck it we just meet again
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| All my niggas need a plan, cos all my niggas need to win
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| All I ever wanted was to be a one to one
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| Now I’m one in three
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| Compulsively a nigga gotta run up or get none
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| Know I feel your pain, a different day when you’re done
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| put you down, afraid to look around, instead I pen it for my dogs
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| Now my city give me 150 for my steez, 150 for my beats
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| Three niggas, we gotta eat
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| Shouts to fans that’s overseas
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| Independent grind, at least we did form a company
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| We a bond that never breaks, never giving up the cake
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| Not a fan of pointing fingers at men
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| It’s dependent on who can pay for academics
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| Homie your chemists are missing the appendages
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| You back into handling business, no kidding
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| My head’s at the clinic, I need a prescription
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| My vision is clearer through smoke and them mirrors
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| I can’t be compared to those niggas you hearing
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| So don’t be offended when niggas don’t feel you
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| All you fools just sound the same
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| Ain’t no credit to your name
|
| Ain’t no credit line open, that’s discrediting the fame
|
| Form your business in the name, something unique like a slain
|
| Make a difference, make a change
|
| But ain’t no puppets on a string
|
| Don’t be chilling on the couch, remember this is for the clout
|
| Remember this is for the poor niggas that’ll represent you when you’re out
|
| Forget you when you need your friends, fuck it we just meet again
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| All my niggas need a plan, cos all my niggas need to win
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| Feeling brave? |
| Nigga run up
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| Buck shots, Here muscle
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| And I don’t need Joey to pump it
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| Pitbull, no muzzle
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| Badmon, I’m thuggin'
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| Dunno, gun smoke
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| Can’t tell me nothin', there’s no need for discussion
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| I’m the sinner and saint, I’m the box logo bully
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| Used to buy Bathing Ape, now they send this shit to me
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| I paved the way for niggas that’re scared to say what they ain’t wanna say
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| Now watch a demon demonstrate, annihilate, love haters all the same
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| Will I die from my homicide or will I die from taking too much drugs?
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| Lord knows I deserve to die on an acid high and I’m double cupped
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| Cold line, hundred blunts
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| Seen a few bitches I’d love to fuck
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| 2Pac in 96 and troublesome
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| 27 club, here I come
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| Comma, c-c-c-c comma, comma, comma, a whole lot of decimals
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| I just s-see my account and c-c-c-c-c-c-c count all my blessing up
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| Bloodstream full of chemical, crip, blood, twist your fingers up
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| Better than some of them veterans
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| Bet they gon' say it’s beginners luck
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| I would die for my niggas, but would they do the same?
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| Hennessey by the gallon, I’m losing my balance and manage the pain
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| I would ride for my niggas, just show me the lane
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| My grandaddy’s still in the kitchen, w-w-whooping the ‘caine
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| My celly' keep ringing
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| I cannot find enough courage to answer
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| The backwoods is hitting
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| Hope that that shit is not giving me cancer
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| Trip on acid while I’m rapping, Sippin' muddy, counting money
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| I think she took too many xannies, she fell asleep while she was sucking
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| Made it out the gutter, shout out to my mother
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| Kudos to my papa, he ain’t wear the rubber
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| This is it, I do this shit here for my brothers |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song This Is It , by - Flatbush Zombies. Song from the album 3001: A Laced Odyssey, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп