| We gon' knock this right out
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| We gon' skate to one song and one song only nigga!
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| Yeah!
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| Really? |
| Fuckin' «Condom Style»?
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| «Get your jig on»?
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| You a clown-ass nigga, put a wig on
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| Nigga I be goin H.A.M. |
| till the pig gone
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| All this ice around my neck, I got a fridge on!
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| Body Cass, put 'em in a body bag
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| Broke nigga, we should put you in a bodycast
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| Real nigga, all I know is get a lot of cash
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| I took you hater niggas spot that’s why you prolly mad!
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| My story, all guts, glory
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| Posted on the corner, Glock .40 tucked on me
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| 20 years on me, me and my army
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| Feelin' like none of y’all niggas can harm me
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| I came from the bottom where they never make it at
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| With all my jewels on they ain’t never takin' that
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| Theres rules to the game I ain’t never breakin' that
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| And once you give a statement, nigga, you can never take it back
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| You lame part of the game, nigga pardon the fame
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| I got 30 in my clip I can park in your frame
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| Plus this Rollie on my wrist cost some cars and change
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| We talking bike life,
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| 'bout to put a park in my name
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| Just to ride on you niggas, or slide on you niggas
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| G550 when we glide on you niggas like
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| Clyde on you niggas,
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| homicide on you nigga
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| I ain’t never had no rap, had no ties to you niggas, so
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| Why you suckas hatin' and talkin' 'bout what I’m makin'?
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| When I be out in Jamaica and ballin' like I’m like a Laker
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| It’s givers and it’s takers, these niggas is gettin faker
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| And I’m just gettin' richer I wake up and get my cake up!
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| Black Maserati, chinchillas for Papi
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| Ten killers beside me, all lookin' like ahkis
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| I remember nights on corners with beef and broccoli
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| Rice and gravy, now it’s crazy cause Phillipe’s got me
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| All gold AP, same watch as Jay-Z
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| Ballin' like I’m KD, how can niggas play me?
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| If you ain’t talkin' money nigga fuck you, pay me
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| Drophead with the top down and the A. C
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| On, drawn, fuck is y’all doin'
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| I’mma king you a pawn, lil nigga I’mma Don
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| The coke price high, it cost 40 for a jawn
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| And like 20 for a half lil nigga do the math
|
| And you talkin' bout a battle rap, how you gon' handle that?
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| 100 grand pussy nigga, you ain’t got the tab for that
|
| You ain’t got the stacks for that, you the one we laughin' at
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| You ain’t got half of that, they pump you up: Asthma attack
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| Bye clown, calm down 'fore you make me bomb now
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| Fucking all these superstars like «Who Meek Milly bomb now?»
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| Went from driving Bentleys to going half on pie pounds
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| You niggas need to die down, Philly nigga: my town
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| I heard your car got re-poed
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| But this is bike life boy you just got Deebo’d
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| Them Twitter niggas fucking with your ego
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| You in the field tryna turn to God like Tebow
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| Naw that won’t work nigga, that’ll get you murked nigga
|
| All-black Ghost nigga, looking like a hearse nigga
|
| Been a dead man, so I’mma dig you out the Earth nigga
|
| Just to stuff your skeleton right back into the dirt nigga
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| What you made this year? |
| What you worth nigga?
|
| I dropped «Dreams & Nightmares,» I made church nigga
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| I did «I'ma Boss,» youngin' set the summer off
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| Man these old niggas mad at me cause they fallin' off!
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| Ha! |
| Get your hate on Cass
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| And we ain’t talking larceny cause they all trash
|
| And your goons ain’t riding witcha, they all mad
|
| Cause you ain’t never put no food up in AR abs
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| My dog killed a body for ya, damn he didn’t eat from it
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| Now you mad at Swizz cause you can’t get a beat from him
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| Once my niggas coming at you dog, we gon' keep comin'
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| Weirdo Forest Gump nigga, better keep runnin'
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| D.C. nigga, you P.C. |
| nigga
|
| While you was scared, I was eatin' chichi nigga
|
| Talking to Tip about how we gon' beast these niggas
|
| All I know is bang bang, like that Chief Keef nigga
|
| Got a matte black Aston, gold rims on it
|
| Bitch looking like it got a pair of Timbs on it
|
| Cashmere sweater, bunch of Jims on it
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| All my guns come with extends on it
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| Duck? |
| and hit up, tuck nigga you lit up
|
| Cause you looking like food my youngins ready to get up
|
| Call you for a verse and tell you to write some shit up
|
| Boom, high stick up, jumping all out the pick up, woah
|
| You know you fucked up right?
|
| The «hustla»
|
| You know you fucked up right?
|
| Man I ain’t doing this shit no more with you nut ass niggas
|
| I came in the game, I ain’t even signed a year nigga
|
| I got more money than all you hatin' ass old niggas put together
|
| Y’all niggas ain’t do shit!
|
| Talkin' all this Philly shit
|
| Y’all niggas ain’t put no foreigns out here nigga
|
| All my niggas drive foreigns!
|
| My niggas don’t even rap and drive better cars than you niggas
|
| Coon copped that 'Rari, you don’t feel sorry for these bitch ass rappers!
|
| You can’t come to Philly no more!
|
| And not even because of this, you was never comin' to Philly
|
| You ain’t been here eight years you pussy ass nigga! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Repo , by - Meek Mill. Song from the album Unreleased Killadelphia Muzik, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп