Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song My Yout, artist - Joey Bada$$. Album song Summer Knights, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.03.2020
Record label: Cinematic
Song language: English
My Yout |
Uh, just put it in the air |
Light that loud and watch disappear here |
Thoughts at the speed of light years, I could see the light |
Yeah, this the right year made the flow, yeah |
Clear and easy to steer in the space and time erasing fine |
Amazing in the maze of clichés |
Each day weighs out enlightenment |
Niggas blacked out 'cause I got ultra violent |
Now my wave lengths to the radio waves |
Still keep it under pavements but not a ratio change |
My patio the same, but I ain’t even got to tell them that |
Poppy leave them dimes at my welcome mat |
Get high as heavens, hope he’ll never come back |
I’m like 5'11, but have angelic contact |
The devil jealous in fact, 'cause I rebel the spells |
With a letter to God, I swear you know me so well |
This one time, I said, «Lord, would you help?» |
Some short time after, see my music on the shelf |
And of course, I gotta thank myself |
My wealth is in my happiness and mind |
And not my pocket health in its ashes |
If you don’t even think sometimes |
If its passion let relationships synchronize |
Drowning inside her, true eyes is to the higher |
I don’t drink too much, I know the bud wiser |
It’s the livest one, Bedford-Stuyvesant |
Yo dogs, I got the loud |
Blow the smoke straight up to the cloud like |
I sky high, my sky high |
Ay, sky high, sky high |
Yo dogs, I got the loud |
Blow the smoke straight up to the cloud like |
I sky high, my sky high |
Ay, sky high, sky high |
Uh, one hand on the mac, one hand on my sac |
I’m thinking to myself, what if I handed it back? |
But I gotta hand it to myself, I’m handling rap |
Handsome versing that’s like hand-in-hand combat |
Rehearsing, I got eight arms, nigga |
Disarm your favorite rapper, he won’t come back |
Made flex drop eight times, nigga |
On contact, rewind that like eight times |
Got to keep it G, this for my masons |
Figure it out, eight times, the average amount |
I may sign which I don’t like lime light but I’ll shine witcha |
Bitch, I gotta eat, I might dine witcha |
Yeah, I got bars but I’m like Akon witcha |
Convict music for real, this industry give me chills |
'Cause in the streets I’m chill but still heating up for a mill |
I’m like so real, life is so surreal |
Sosa really got sealed for the way he revealed |
Taking hold of pitchforks still, but I will never yield |
In this pitchfork hold thinking I gotta appeal |
'Cause I’m thinking like a deal could get me living swell for real |
But if I skyfall, thinking ideal |
Yo dogs, I got the loud |
Blow the smoke straight up to the cloud like |
I sky high, my sky high |
Ay, sky high, sky high |
Yo dogs, I got the loud |
Blow the smoke straight up to the cloud like |
I sky high, my sky high |
Ay, sky high, sky high |
Selling LPs and CDs |
Grassroots with grassroots, seeds on |
Five finger discount weed leaves, |
Exceptionally speaking determination |
Breeds success and proceeds, |
Feds want the photos and IDs |
Into them blood like IVs |
Cause every youth |
Want the newest Nikes |
Straight jeans and white tees |
But these things will get pricey |
And I’m gone, hitting knowledge |
And I’m hitting the strong |
I’ve been hurting way too long |
And I can’t wait too long |
And I’m gone, hitting knowledge |
As I’m hitting the strong, |
I’ve been hurting way too long |
I can’t wait too long |
I’ve been hurting way too long |
I can’t wait too long |