| Lights out! |
| Yea
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| I think they want that real shit Eric G
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| ‘Ey look, I ain’t got no rock in my sock or no grill in my mouth
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| But when he talk, he still shine, bought more blinds for the house
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| Grand slam, Denny’s my lucky penny still in the couch
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| Monster left from underneath the bed but ghost still in my house
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| Wrapped tight like a boa constrictor killin' a mouse
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| Give a fuck about your feelin’s, fuck nigga, feelings is out
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| Who the fuck can hang with 'Q, I make it hard to name a few
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| Kick it like a kangaroo and got most stealin' my pouch
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| I’m wylin', straight tripping like stomachs and malt liquor
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| Tell me she brought weed, I thankfully brought swishas
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| Miss Marley Malibu, my barbie a doll flipper
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| Thick thighs, bite size I call her my small snicker
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| Hit the back room, now they on my tip like bartenders
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| Came in a tfive, left at one I feel like Don Richards, huh
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| Tryna keep up, life is but a sweet drug
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| All you niggas do is bite, rappin' on a flea rug
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| The world’s a big place, I’m just tryna see most of it
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| 30 on a jet ski, 40 makin' the ocean twitch
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| I draw attention like every line I open with
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| I’m just tryna double up without looking at Olsen clips
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| Rated Oakland, fuck you bitch, nigga I’m promotin' this
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| You ain’t think I was sick, you gon' get a dose of this
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| They lyin', they ain’t comin' close to this
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| And for the haters I’mma do the most with this
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| It ain’t too much talking goin on huh?
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| Ain’t talkin as much Millions
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| Clown ass niggas, still poppin' on ‘em
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| Rated Oakland, fuck you bitch, nigga I’m promotin' this
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| You ain’t think I was sick, you gon' get a dose of this
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| They lyin', they ain’t comin' close to this
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| And for the haters, I’mma do the most with this
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| Rated Oakland, fuck you bitch, nigga I’m promotin' this (x4)
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| It’s a couple people that’s probly gon' hate me
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| But more that’s gon' love me
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| Snappin' on some shit like my godson, crappin' in huggies
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| Oh my god son, as soon as I get it crackin' it’s ugly
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| Flow killed them, that’s what’s happened, that why my napkin is bloody
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| Go figure, how this nigga just tight as wrappin' a mummie
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| Hoes runnin' like Pitino with a trap in Kentucky
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| Man I’m cool as models in Colorado sippin' a slushie
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| Bounced out like a dead ball floor seaters can touch me
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| More shots, I’m just duckin' like Plucky
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| Mind packed like a party in heaven thrown above me
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| If you love me you should let me know, heard life kinda short
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| ‘86 delivered to my parents by the flyest stork
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| Gettin' up like aisle seats, they ain’t on my style Reese
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| These rappers a piece of candy I’m thinkin' like «how sweet»
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| The talkin' they was talkin' gettin' quiet
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| I’m calm but inside of my head is a riot
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| Whatchu sellin, I don’t buy it, not even on sale though
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| Every time she come around I leave her like a whale show
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| I told you no one even close to this
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| And for the haters, wait let me quote this shit
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| Rated Oakland, fuck you bitch, nigga I’m promotin' this
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| You ain’t think I was sick, you gon' get a dose of this
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| They lyin', they ain’t comin' close to this
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| And for the haters I’mma do the most with this
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| We just doin' what we do mane
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| Town shit, 5−1-0, still poppin' on ‘em
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| ‘Ey, Millions, niggas was talkin' too much right that’s all they do
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| Niggas dont' really do shit, they just talk
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| Look at us though, ha ha
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| Eric G what’s happenin, you know, wylin' and shit
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| You know why?
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| I’m probly cooler than I need to be, nigga
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| Yea, I’m probly cooler than I need to be, nigga
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| Straight up, yea
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| I’m probly cooler than I need to be
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| Yea, one more time man
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| Eric G, right |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Promotion , by - GQ. Song from the album Rated Oakland, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп