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