Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hayworth , by - Mickey Factz. Song from the album Y-3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 22.10.2015
Record label: W.A.R. Media
Song language: English
Hayworth |
| Yeah, they see me in them 25th letters, all they do is why |
| Can’t he get better |
| Of course over time, but that’s an extra quarter |
| $ 1.25 if you caught it you a scorer |
| Tom Brady aura, Patriot created |
| Now I want my quarter back, hurry with the payment |
| Your wifey on my balls till they both got deflated |
| The writings on the wall Stevie saw it when he sang it |
| Ribbon in the sky, tie it to a cloud |
| This gifted nigga fly like a pigeon when it glides |
| Searching for the present like your listen for the time |
| And it’s all wrapped when I’m fitting it inside |
| Morikami paintings you can see them in the entrance |
| I be getting faded fireball is my apprentice |
| Metaphors I live by my nigga Lupe get the credit |
| On top of that they can’t equal facts |
| Tower over niggas, tell me who want a piece of that? |
| Leaning back, Morgan Freeman rap, yeah you see the bat |
| Without that Michael Keaton cat, Y-3, bring it back |
| This is how it go |
| Shit is different on me |
| Now you know |
| Spend a little time |
| Doing me on the low |
| Now they got me feeling like the G.O.A.T |
| Like whoa, I’m the best |
| I tell my mirror everyday |
| Little homie I’m the best |
| Now these haters feel some kind of way |
| Cause I got them things on |
| El, let me begin like this |
| I gets deep (?) |
| (?) motor bike cyclists |
| That was written in blood, type-0 |
| No misspelling |
| I got the mannerisms of a man of wisdom |
| Rolling up a gram of ism |
| Busting off the brain like an aneurysm |
| Bet I officially win |
| We’ll put up paper |
| But y’all scared to pinpoint when to pencil me in |
| Your schedule is clear that my legible handwriting |
| Is groundbreaking like Super Saiyans |
| Fighting super friends and titans |
| Why would you sleep on my position in rap |
| Cause if those listeners (?) kept staring how I’m missing a step |
| Supplying lines like I’m kilo flipping |
| Don’t let me get in your head, stick out my foot |
| And have your ego tripping |
| Those (?) pursuit of |
| Leaves mummified |
| And should get they piece from a pie |
| That’s just food for thought |
| Y-3, I’m talking Jeremy Scott |
| Yohji Yamamoto cause Yeezy’s barely in stock |
| My pops ain’t gone bury me, boy |
| I’ma bury my pops |
| Before I bury the hatchet, I rather bury the Glock |
| She said I never smoke |
| Well, I got to cherry the pop |
| I got that mary jane, I smoke the hairiest pot |
| What if Mary Magdalene had a bloody mary with a virgin |
| On December 25th |
| While bumping Mary J. Blige |
| And Miss Mary Mack got on this little lamb |
| Would you still say Merry Christmas |
| If Joseph married the thot? |
| Lord have mercy |
| You ain’t heard no bars as sweet as this, Lord have Hershey’s |
| My birthday is the only other day supposed to have Turkish |
| Kirkwood is the new Mexico |
| And I ain’t talking Albuquerque |
| Huh, boy, you gone have to murk 'em |
| I done swam through deeper waters |
| This shit ain’t half as murky |
| My clip pack a thirty |
| Can’t let you bastards hurt me |
| You gone need the same stitches |
| They put the name on the back of jerseys with |
| God please forgive 'em |
| For shooting at the clergy |
| And my bitch kill every event |
| Jackie Joyner-Kersee, motherfucker |