Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cooler, artist - GQ. Album song Rated Oakland, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 23.06.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Gq, Jamla
Song language: English
Cooler |
| Ride to the sunset, they ain’t beat me to the punch yet |
| I send new music like drunk texts, then forget I made ‘em like drunk bets |
| My momma friends be like «girl, your son blessed» |
| They like «'Q whatchu doin?» |
| I’m having fun, yes |
| I slept less but them nights out was much needed |
| Ain’t it funny how you suck and I succeeded? |
| I left home like cut leases |
| Just to make a statement still writin' a tough thesis |
| Young genius, down to Earth but what I’m swingin' is striking Venus |
| I wanna touch a couple mil before I touch Jesus |
| And that’s real, tell me how I should feel |
| Cool chick, cool spot, where better for us to chill huh? |
| You still can’t believe it’s all real huh? |
| Have a drink, hope it don’t spill ma |
| Enjoy yourself |
| Seems like every place I been I done seen so many things |
| But nothin' seems to be the same |
| I’m right where I wanna be |
| This is perfect for my day, to make me just feel this way |
| I’m prolly cooler than I need to be, I’m prolly cooler than I need to be |
| I’m prolly cooler than I need to be, I’m prolly cooler than I need to be |
| What kinda mood you in? |
| Party to throw |
| A few gon' slide that’s bringing molly to blow |
| I be gnarly fo sho, fly as Marty could go |
| They be all in attendance, never tardy before, oh |
| Fake folk tryna sneak by me |
| I’m backfloating no beach by me |
| Name come up, bout Quentin they speak highly |
| Woodstock can’t peace by me |
| Tire burn when the street open |
| Ask me how I got it I just tell ‘em it’s East Oakland |
| Wanna catch up, boi? |
| Keep hopin' |
| I run shit like my feet swollen |
| And that’s real, tell me how I should feel |
| Cool chick, cool spot, where better for us to chill huh? |
| You still can’t believe it’s all real huh? |
| Have a drink, hope it don’t spill ma |
| Enjoy yourself |
| It was all so simple then |
| Check it, beat blastin', they like, «aww, he rappin'» |
| A minute later they like «aww, he snappin'» |
| Makin' music they head lose it complete madness |
| Partners turn to pedestrians I just keep passin' |
| And I keep asking like kids in a toy store |
| Still waiting for my answer it’s probly behind this door that I been |
| Tryna open, I’m just hopin' my key’ll work |
| My talent like a UFO, wonder who gon' see it first |
| I’m on a bubble waiting for my dream to burst |
| Even though you didn’t I knew that this thing would work |
| Been bullshitting I need to check on my granny more |
| There for me no matter what, that’s what I got family for |
| Thinkin' more than usual now, every day is crucial now |
| I’m just tryna fly my nigga, why you tryna shoot me down? |
| Still fuckin with my niggas, all the ones I grew up ‘round |
| You don’t like me I don’t like you, at least you know it’s mutual now |
| Sad to say, where I’m from, a human life ain’t shit to us |
| Fuck the legs you on my nigga, every day’s a cliff to us |
| Hard for me to pick and trust, hoes be tryna get to us |
| If Rosa couldn’t fuck would make you think you get to sit with us? |
| Long day, hours slip away come take a trip with us |
| Hit the lights, press record another magic trick to us |
| Hate it when I start complain' trippin bout the storm I’m in |
| Got a call lost for words, I guess I’m losin' more than friends |
| Never did I know my way, I just had to trust the map |
| Now I can’t trust TV, reality, fuck is that? |
| Talkin to a friend still tryna cope with a brother’s death |
| Pretty smile, happy girl, because he gone and up and left |
| Nothin' left, prayin' that her pain’ll soon come to rest |
| My nigga smoke a pound a month, he tired of this fuckin stress |
| Free my nigga Rojo, he dealin' with a buncha mess |
| Now I’m pickin' up like wind, life is just a summer dress |
| Had to get this off my chest, talkin' on some urgent shit |
| I ain’t actin' funny baby, really I’m just swervin' bitch |
| On 5−9 that’s word to Tick, back playin on Saturdays |
| Smooth off the endo, I’m Del Lindo as Satchel Paige |
| This little light of mine is glowin' ain’t it? |
| All of the people talkin' to me ain’t speakin my language |
| Bottoms up, hors d’oeuvre with a olive cup |
| 305 me and four women havin' a tropic brunch |
| Hittin' ‘em like antlers, haters wanna stop and hunt |
| Winter time I’m flyin south, you out with a flock of ducks |
| My partna say he wanna move but he ain’t got nowhere to go |
| I told that nigga, I ain’t got no job but I’m still chasin' dough |
| I’m being honest, no comic but still flip made it |
| Everywhere I go I see temptation a bitch ain’t it? |
| Everywhere I go I see temptation a bitch ain’t it? |
| It was all so simple then |
| Let the record play, let the record play |
| Let the record play, let the record play |
| Just let the record play |
| It was all so simple then |
| Rated Oakland |