| K-K-Kato on the track, bitch
|
| Black Cloud
|
| Real motherfuckers do real shit (real shit)
|
| Fake motherfuckers get away (get away)
|
| We don’t give a fuck how you feel bitch (we don’t give a fuck)
|
| We been counting money all day
|
| I been on the grind all year
|
| I been getting mine aw yeah (yeah, yeah)
|
| I been pressing line after line
|
| I been doing quite fine, I ain’t worried 'bout them
|
| Yeah, how do I make a marker?
|
| How do I break the plain?
|
| How do I fashion out of nothing, enough to finally sustain?
|
| How do I take a notion and focus and not lick the game?
|
| How do I tunnel through the sewage and never show 'em a stain vein?
|
| Pure vanity, candidly I was speaking
|
| Fascinated with fame, my desire started to peak and
|
| I’m taking a route and making a lane that none of you here were seeking
|
| Cause most of these rappers now be reaching
|
| I’m willing to bet the scars and the bruises, they intermediate muses
|
| Sacrifices in crisis, that violently left them clueless
|
| Every slip is a lesson, I’m fully reaping the usage
|
| So what if they sleeping on me, now they lose it
|
| I’m used to the pessimism, I need the discouragement
|
| I encourage it
|
| Every verse is a surgeon, an inclination for nourishment
|
| Every stress is a test and a testament to 'em flourishing
|
| I’m putting my flag down till it’s permanent, I concur
|
| Real motherfuckers do real shit (real shit)
|
| Fake motherfuckers get away (get away)
|
| We don’t give a fuck how you feel bitch (we don’t give a fuck)
|
| We been counting money all day
|
| I been on the grind all year
|
| I been getting mine aw yeah (yeah, yeah)
|
| I been pressing line after line
|
| I been doing quite fine, I ain’t worried 'bout them
|
| Niggas shit on you then turn around and praise you in death
|
| Fuck that fake love, I’d rather take a stake through the chest
|
| Gimme the roses while I’m breathing
|
| Don’t wait till I’m a corpse to show remorse
|
| You gotta go through rigor mortis for support
|
| Hate us a pistol, a plastic straw, smack the bitch
|
| Niggas bodies get wrapped with a bag of gauze
|
| Bodies get hat with sauce, these be bitches packed with flaws
|
| So she put them filters on thinking that will attract the boss
|
| Scrubs on the street say he clutching the heat
|
| How she party in Belize but still get government cheese
|
| Moral of the story, half the shit you see is a scam
|
| Niggas do anything for a hit on the gram (clout)
|
| Two turntables and a mic in my hand
|
| Niggas dying from syrup, dirty sprite, and them xans (ugh)
|
| If I don’t get rich bitch, I’ma go nuts
|
| When you die that’s when your sales go up
|
| What the fuck
|
| Real motherfuckers do real shit (real shit)
|
| Fake motherfuckers get away (get away)
|
| We don’t give a fuck how you feel bitch (we don’t give a fuck)
|
| We been counting money all day
|
| I been on the grind all year
|
| I been getting mine aw yeah (yeah, yeah)
|
| I been pressing line after line
|
| I been doing quite fine, I ain’t worried 'bout them
|
| I am the definition of self-sustainable, never would say I’m full
|
| Never would take a hand, I’d bite my tongue to play the fool
|
| I’m making a mark, you’re making a mockery portraying cool
|
| You’d rather be unpaid or unrelatable
|
| I’d never accept either
|
| I believe that my circumstances are blessings
|
| Self-examination accumulated aggression
|
| I’m pressing to break the status quo
|
| I’m taking your view, shaking the rules
|
| And making a muse, in my habitation I had to grow
|
| Flow is my ammunition but it ain’t just my plan and mission
|
| To feed you misleading lyrics, leave you in panic fishing
|
| But I need you to stand and listen, this is my testimony
|
| Went from being broke to turning down what ain’t destined for me
|
| I formally disagree with the office they pitching me
|
| Picture me following suit, tie the suit that they pick for me
|
| Victory is in my foresight
|
| I follow my heart and just ignore hype
|
| This is my declaration for more right
|
| Real motherfuckers do real shit (real shit)
|
| Fake motherfuckers eat a dick
|
| I’m steadily gaining more, more men, and with more venom
|
| Really I’m bored with 'em
|
| Well then I wipe 'em out with metaphors, get 'em
|
| Murder 'em all, reversing the ball, swinging the pendulum, you
|
| Taking advantage of niggas who never knew nothing just to advance few
|
| Get in the game, willing to claim what they can never do
|
| I’m defiant, never compliant, fuck it, I always spit the truth
|
| You been used to these niggas rapping with no condimental traction
|
| And take a potential action to end it in simple fashion
|
| You sick cause you into fast shit
|
| I’m sick cause my lyrics gassin'
|
| Ready to raise the bar, every bar is essential, ask 'em
|
| This is what you ask for, you willing to bleed
|
| I’m willing to crash for, delete for my social media dashboard
|
| You dash toward what you think is your only voice
|
| Niggas will follow anything if you never give 'em a choice
|
| Real motherfuckers do real shit (real shit)
|
| Fake motherfuckers get away (get away)
|
| We don’t give a fuck how you feel bitch (we don’t give a fuck)
|
| We been counting money all day
|
| I been on the grind all year
|
| I been getting mine aw yeah (yeah, yeah)
|
| I been pressing line after line
|
| I been doing quite fine, I ain’t worried 'bout them |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ghost, artist - Locksmith. Album song Ali, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп