Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song FromdaTomb$, artist - Joey Bada$$. Album song 1999, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 11.06.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: EMPIRE, Pro Era
Song language: English
FromdaTomb$ |
| Said, what it’s like? |
| Joey Bad' and Chuck Strangers |
| Leave niggas endangered |
| It’s the real, yo, what’s the word word? |
| Pass the herbs—check |
| My man Dirty had the buddha just to put me in my right mind |
| I rhyme stoned, drop jewels and bright lines |
| Sight dimes wit' slight closed eyes, I’m slight sober |
| Ma, you ain’t that girl at giving throat so bye |
| F it, I’m bipolar, took shorty to the backroom |
| Play charades, she actin like a vacuum |
| Showed her to the door before the afternoon |
| She fell hard on the floor, so you know that she’ll be back soon |
| Fake MC’s get their reps ruined |
| Young villain hop up on the track then the track doomed |
| Click-clack-boom, resurrecting boom-bap from the tombs |
| Raps dope like crack in cocoons |
| Back in this mood, back on the move |
| It’s the motherfucking real, nigga chill act cool |
| Pay respect to the cat Drew |
| And I’m way too blessed to be throwing shots at you |
| Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest |
| Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era |
| I’m tryna find my own lane, in this freeway of life |
| Just remember home boy there ain’t no free way to life |
| My nigga it’s gon cost you, try not to lose your soul |
| To the rims, hoes, and gold |
| Cause once the devil grab hold, that nigga ain’t letting go |
| And I’m far from religious, I just know right and wrong |
| I know how to write these songs, I know how to light these bongs |
| I know how to rip thongs and I’m pretty good at beer pong |
| Nigga, I’m so crazy, nigga I’m loco |
| Gassed up like Sunoco, press the pedal through the floor |
| Bitch we out the door, vroom vroom, skurrt |
| Bitch love don’t live here no more |
| Cause her weave look faker than her Louie bag |
| Weak chick I tried to bag, had the nerve to turn me down |
| Heard this song and turned around, now she want me to unzip her pants |
| But I’m gone, bitch missed her chance |
| Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest |
| Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era |
| Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest |
| Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era |
| I got sick of class, started making classics |
| Now all I really do is get the grass lit and bust asses |
| I’m sure to blow like bust acid |
| Puff, assist like Maravich, a true Maverick |
| And I average above average on an average day |
| Doing bad shit bet you still can’t pass this |
| And his teacher still pass him |
| Though they adolescents be addin' rappin' sessions over addin' lessons |
| Like fuck trigonometry, I’m trying to multiply monopolies |
| Subtract some homies then divide the cheese |
| Divide legs just to isosceles so my eyes can see through the E |
| Shit on you hypotheses |
| Hypocrisy after essence like apostrophes |
| You can’t stand here unless you pay a posture fee |
| Part the cheese, head out the spot and leave |
| A pile of G’s for apology |
| Joey Bad and Chuck Strangers |
| Leaving niggas endangered |
| Danger, danger |
| Joey Bad leaving niggas endangered |