Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Memento, artist - GQ. Album song Death Threats & Love Notes, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 25.03.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Gq, Jamla
Song language: English
Memento |
| So… so where are you? |
| You’re in some hotel room |
| You just… you just wake up and you’re in a hotel room |
| I mean you know who you are |
| And you kinda know all about yoself but… |
| Just for the day to day stuff… notes are really uh… useful |
| (Hook) |
| New beginnings, startin over |
| Celebratin, still hardly sober |
| Memory gone, so forgetful |
| I can’t remember nothing, I need a pad and pencil |
| Look what I’m getting into |
| Rockin like fraggle, bitches |
| My spirit slowly liftin, no different from castle bridges |
| I’m blackin out like charcoal, they lookin for me — Marco |
| Don’t know too many kings |
| I paint the city, she tell me how much she love my art show |
| We off that killa purple, Sophia and habo |
| Fuck it, I’m in it, watch me, that’s what they usually do |
| Kickin these niggas out like… |
| And they be on the corner hustling |
| Probably see a crook or two |
| Bitches got a appetite for lots of plots, hookahs too |
| Pregnant women hustle nigga, see that mean I’m pushin through |
| They not awesome, they just talkin |
| Huh, I got some shit I’m dealin with, hopefully time fix |
| Either they fuck wit you or dog you out, blind sticks |
| Went up a lot of steps, work ethic is rocky |
| My eyes tight like fried rice dipped in wasabi |
| Without the money it’s a hobby |
| So broke I couldn’t even pay respect, they wouldn’t let me in, I’m Bobby |
| Up in rally, now I’m poppin up in hella folk discussions |
| But I don’t think they understand, I mean |
| You can’t pull a nigga into remembering |
| The more pressure you’re under — the harder it gets |
| (Hook) |
| New beginnings, startin over |
| Celebratin, still hardly sober |
| Memory gone, so forgetful |
| I can’t remember nothing, I need a pad and pencil |
| Yea, sleepin on miotis, spark it up with lighters |
| Leavin out the info like why you ain’t invite us? |
| Talkin code red, drum roll tipsy |
| Like I’m leaving Nipsy’s |
| Shootin stars droppin |
| Wallpaper pealin, nobody’s close to me |
| Except my neighbors' building, fish tank fillin |
| Lot of eyes on me but they don’t even know |
| Shit, where I get it from? |
| Nigga you feel me |
| On this bitch like this trip, bumpin LV |
| The same dreams you buyin they couldn’t sell me |
| Cuz now I fuck with em |
| Na, tell me I’m far ahead |
| Butter like garlic bread, I got a lot of drive |
| Can’t even park in red, runnin out of ink |
| But never out of thoughts |
| It all make em say… |
| Jumpin off the hook |
| Let that man bungee, tell him hit the showers |
| But not with Zan Dusky |
| Ricocheting off him, slick as a day in Harlem |
| Soon as she see me say |
| Wait wait, something don’t feel right |
| I think somebody’s fuckin with me |
| He’s tryin to get me to kill the wrong person or something |
| (Hook) |
| New beginnings, startin over |
| Celebratin, still hardly sober |
| Memory gone, so forgetful |
| I can’t remember nothing, I need a pad and pencil |
| (Outro) |
| Look what I’m getting into |
| Rockin like gravel, bitches |
| My spirit slowly liftin, no different from castle bridges |
| I’m blackin out like charcoal… |
| Wait wait, what the fuck I’m doin? |
| I already said that shit |