Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wishmaster, artist - Lil Ugly Mane.
Date of issue: 10.02.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Wishmaster |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Turn me up some, 665 plus one |
I’m entitled to my money like a trust fund |
Come up off the dubs, let me touch one |
Drops on every corner like the way the city bus runs |
You know that I’mma act a fool again and lick shots in unison |
With crews of hooligans until you’re left with fewer friends |
Catch me on the news, being interviewed, wearing your jewels |
Saying «I saw it all, but I don’t know who the shooter is» |
I revel in the infamy, Count made the symphony |
You can’t fucks with it, then you really not a friend of me |
Bullet hits your neck, travels all through your extremities |
Make me feel sad, knowing murder not the remedy |
But that’s the way it be on the block |
Braveheart, stay sharp before you run out of clock |
Cause there’s no halfsteppin', you’re either in or you’re not |
And with the way the lips flap, you’re either kin or the cops, bitch |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
So what’s the drill, kiddo, Ay yo, the black talon separates |
The breeze like a whistle, shootin' flame out the Navi' window |
Call the whip Zippo, Leave you crippled |
We could do it in the park or after dark at the cribbo |
Finesse invested, roll around in suits double-breasted |
Whips foreign and domestic, bubble-butted shorty’s big-chested |
Blessed on the mic majestic |
I keep it so filthy that the mic septic |
We can throw hands, golden gloves, I got the marvelous molly-whop |
The way I lick shots, I call it double-barrelled lollipops |
Ugly blow spots just like a molotov |
And I’mma stay rich 'til the fuckin' coffin drops |
Ay yo, I walk around with mostly large rifles for survival |
Cause «death walks hand-in-hand with struggle», Stokely Carmichael |
Bitch, give me my mothafuckin' money, bitch! |
Don’t you wish you could be me, bitch? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Don’t you wish you could be me? |
Yeah, Mista Thug Isolation |
Don’t you wish you could be me punk? |
Ho? |