Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Priceless, artist - Jon Connor.
Date of issue: 12.04.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Priceless |
Now that’s exactly my point: none of this is real! |
So brother, we’ve got to stay grounded in reality |
Look; |
sellin' out your brother, fall out with your mother |
You just make a living gossipin' 'bout other mother fuckers |
All you niggas messy like you run in puddles |
All you niggas pussy, I can’t say it subtle |
This the type of shit that make a hater humble |
I’m made of the same sun I’m sittin' under |
Shittin' thunder, blood of Harriet Tubman, nigga |
I’m just out here diggin' tunnels |
Niggas puppets, bitches fuckin' with the quickness |
Any nigga who got season tickets see the thickness |
All I see is trouble |
I don’t care about your trophies… |
Oh, you don’t want any? |
It was wrong for me to take 'em in the first place! |
Oh, it was, was it? |
You took 'em nevertheless, didn’t ya? |
Take it all! |
I don’t want any of this shit! |
You watch your language! |
You go to hell! |
Who you flexin' to? |
Who sittin' next to you? |
Yeah, I see the shit you tryna show me, homie |
Slow down, where the rest of you? |
I see through the vest, so while you wrestle with what’s testin' you |
I gave back what you want, the worst of me is the best of you |
I hope my aggression SOS’in you, these bitches you be dressin' |
Sexin', puttin' on a pedestal, finessin' you |
And it’s as though you are as an investment, more or less |
Yeah, these hoes is more or less all I’m undressin' |
Is the naked truth |
Executin' every move, I’m petty-proof |
I’m Freddy loose, a nightmare |
I’m but Terry Crews, very true |
Flint, Michigan, a couple miles away |
From the cemetery where they buried Proof |
Get buried for a pair of shoes |
High as fuck, I need a parachute, on edibles, whoo |
Word to, I’m just prepared, do I look scared to you? |
The path I chose was terrible, unbearable, don’t follow me |
I wouldn’t double-dare you to, you saw what I’m prepared to lose |
Like sellin' out for camera views and manicures |
And fuckin' stuck-up bitches with fake asses and a attitude |
I had a few |
The shit that you attracted to distractin' you |
Ooh, I hope the news is gettin' through to whoever the fuck I’m rappin' to |
Never fake, never fake |
Tryna stay real to get to Heaven in the days |
Where even the fuckin' reverend fake |
Me and who I am to the core, it will never separate |
No matter the position, the circumstances, or bread I make |
How much you need, nigga? |
How much you need, nigga, how much a ho— |
How much a old-ass soul go for these days, nigga? |
You tell me, nigga, 'cause I don’t know! |
You know, there are still a lot of people out there |
Who think that their morals and their pride are more important |
To 'em than money. |
Can you believe that? |
No, I can’t believe it. |
Because morals and pride, they can’t buy |
You diamonds… sir |
Virgil, you’re learnin' fast. |
And all you people out there are |
Gonna learn the same lesson that Virgil here has learned |
That money can, and does, buy you anything or anybody |
Like I said, everybody’s got a price |