Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song A Little Story, artist - Jean Grae. Album song The Bootleg of the Bootleg, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.10.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Orchestral
Song language: English
A Little Story |
The story of a young girl, praying for those who chose her to notice |
This golden child entitled the holy grail drinker |
For sure a soldier trooper |
Maneuver through your crew and noticed only overseas and quoted like a? |
maneuver |
Picture different, my vision position to capture moments |
And living it only dreaming children are pretty to know |
And Jean holding zero? |
dinero is the current state |
I’m exposing the lack of folding? |
limos? |
empty plates |
It’s all fucked up, writing across the wall, sucker |
My thoughts are trapped in ink and imagining them being wrapped in mink |
But life is routed on roads with broken glass and potholes and shit |
I’m running barefoot on the same street you drive your Rolls in |
Luxury gangsta whips and cliques and women |
Liquor-driven strippers chilling in your coke-infested place of living |
I got a stoag and a match, a dream of toking some tracks |
? |
cash, so why should niggas listen? |
I throwback like Kodak clips |
That means I go back to old hits and re-take prints with new spit |
Then throw that to yo? |
You know that trick, whoa |
With that ho? |
I mean that shit, yo |
Suppose you only used to chicks who use they tits to boost sales |
And boot males who switch the crew they with but really fails |
Cause rap fans are finicky, your approach is gimmicky |
So your turn’s over fast, like a young man’s virginity |
Ms. Grae, the unknown vet, destined to stardom |
Reaching higher up than Harlem is to L.E.S. |
Puerto Ricans |
You’re blowing smoke and shooting dope and speaking nothing |
Niggas is tripping, video bitches are making a killing |
Little girls thinking they’re grown women in bra tops |
But will it matter soon when the bomb drops, it all stops |
We’re thinking ghetto warfare, you should be thinking bigger |
Money, bitches, and houses, they’re still calling you a nigga |
This is the mind of a visionary |
Imprisoned in matrimony with rapping in shackled? |
Black like ya homie selling crack in the back of an alley |
You know me in fact, I’m the shadow behind you creeping slowly |
Smoking dro, analyzing ambition |
While I’m fantasizing, planning trips of tanning on islands with? |
Up and down? |
magazine |
Poster child for? |
scholars,? |
kerosene find me |
Maybe finally in colleges with adolescent scholars |
PlayStations for twenty kids making a hundred dollars |
Maybe chilling in Hollis with? |
wallets open |
Splitting change for dutches for rolling, munchies for after smoking |
The intro, for y’all who ain’t know |
The first is J-E-N |
The second’s G-R, then the letter of every first plan |
Next, the last to the end of this verse, I’m hoping your spelling it works |
Cause it’s the end of the verse |