Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Six Fo', artist - Joell Ortiz. Album song Human, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.07.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Roseville
Song language: English
Six Fo' |
This sounds best in the car |
Vocal calisthenics, let me flex on the bars |
Ain’t even gotta try to tell everybody bye |
You could pull up any verse and never dip on the high |
Why am I still considered the head honcho? |
Fire flows turn all them designer clothes into red ponchos |
Paragraphs disperse lead pronto |
Bring you to your knees slow like Tebow watchin' the Jets-Broncos |
Look at what my thoughts bring |
These up and comers like the first day of summer, they my offspring |
Feels like an undercover boss thing |
Oh my godly pace forces me to hardly race, I’m New York’s king |
These words runnin' 'round in my head |
I slow 'em down and connect 'em underground 'til y’all dead |
They said if you rap too good, you’ll never make a profit |
Tell that to these bank tellers when I make deposits |
Tell that to the flight attendant when the plane departin' |
And tell your bitch get off my dick like Lorena Bobbitt |
This ain’t no movie that I play a part in |
It’s real life and I’m nice in the punch-you-in-the-face department |
Writin' hand been strong, you gotta break your arm and |
To try to be in conversations that my name’s involved in |
I’m best of friends with Eminem, Dr. Dre and all them |
Gang members, Yelawolf, Paul, Tracy and all them |
I would play the park bench with a crazy Walkman |
Listenin' straight, no rewind button |
Flip the tape, fast forward just to rewind somethin' |
Fast forward, I’m flippin' tapes, look at me, I’m frontin' |
They said I’d never make it |
Rikers Island just knew they’d be makin' bed arrangements |
One of them bullets just knew they would hit my chest and cave it |
I’m wanted, better face it |
I’m Dufresne, I’ve been through a lot of shit, but bet I escaped it |
I’m from a world full of run-up-in-your-spot robbers |
No carpentry class kinda ox carvers |
On the block with a Glock and rock joggers |
And nobody saw nothin', you got shot for bein' a blogger |
Look what all these hard bars did for me |
Nice guys finish last, I gotta disagree |
This spittin' spree keeps me at the dealership |
Like I fuck nothin' but virgins, every year I’m in a different V |
While these rappers got a kick out of mimicry |
My raps felt like blackbelts in the 6th degree |
I roundhouse whoever tryna trade rounds |
With the House and house rounds in any battle, nigga, this is me |
I get it poppin', it’s the Papi Chulo |
Pop into this spot, pop bottles then pop out with your mami culo |
Just fucked a pop star but promised to never let you know |
I’m tellin' you though, she look like she on Telemundo |
I don’t care if she faked it all day |
Right after I nut, I said I came a long way |
From coppin' new Js in Dr. Jays on Broadway |
To stylists at the Grammys, watchin' plays on Broadway |
To the private invite from playwrights, guess I played it right |
Is y’all Mayweather or Mike, is you gon' take the fight? |
I’m just tryna get in shape to hit the weigh in like |
Skip this press conference, less nonsense, nigga say goodnight |
I took an oath to never let my fans down |
First rapper to man up’ll be a man down |
Skinny, chubby, fat, 5'6″ tall |
Line 'em up, I got a coffin that’s one-size-fits-all |
This pen is what kept me out the pens, but how you act depends |
If a life sentence pens for pennin' your end |
My wrist swings like a pendulum for perfect penmanship |
Pendejo my empire’s independent again |