Lyrics Wakilisha - MZ Boom Bap, Ryler Smith

Wakilisha

Yo its once again it’s the young
Verbal gunner on the come up
Coming straight out the gutter
Heavy brother with the flow
Keep the heat runnin smooth like butter
No other.
On the mic I go in so deep like lovers
Strong flows dripping wet from the marihuana
I get it it on
When my people in the area
(WHATS THAT)
Sound of the prophet of 90's stereo
I been ahead of these niggas since 95
We’ve been born into an era that’s odd
(FUCK A 9−5)
Rolling my joint
Contemplating my vision
Smoking the fuse steady sparkin' the izm
We in yo area, ya, ya
Yo, Yo, sing along
Strong like I’m heavy, but I’m small
I’m heading for the fall, no doubt
Stay steady on my stunt
Gone jetty
Ain’t made money in a month
We sing
Ouh la la la
Wreck ya head
Break ya neck to it
Ouh la la la
Jiggy child with the jay
Ouh la la la
Spread the message thru the universe
We on the rise
Cause the real heads get recognized
Me and my niggas we get it like rocafella
Spot a fella other breddas
More wishful than Cinderella
(NO DOUBT)
Fuck a fairy tale, shit is unreal
When neighborhoods gentrify you for sale
Class superiors hail
Raising they grail to the thunder and hail
Their money rise
While their people get bailed
Not talking jail but the prison
No thought or mission to give a fuck
Or to give with
No feeling of luck to live with
Nobody fuck with
The feeling of having no sublet
Who give a fuck if the public don’t like yo clothes
It’s the 17 era exposed
Now spread love, spread love
Yo, Yo, sing along
Strong like I’m heavy, but I’m small
I’m heading for the fall, no doubt
Stay steady on my stunt
Gone jetty
Ain’t made money in a month
We sing
Ouh la la la
Wreck ya head
Break ya neck to it
Ouh la la la
Jiggy child with the jay
Ouh la la la
Spread the message thru the universe
We on the rise
Cause the real heads get recognized
Loan it like Corleone try to make me an offer
The Joe Pesci of the rap game
Bashing heads in a opera
Enough of shitty puns
The audience wants more but
Next to bottles of henny
Lies the head of the rugged author
Shutting the zone
It’s the fuckin chaperone
We gon spark it up like it’s chrome
So step it up or get ya ass home
(BRING IT BACK)
We flip that, incredible slick fat
Richt back onto that old phenomal 90's flava
(THAT'S RIGHT)
Never choke up on the beat
Independent young nigga, no receipt
Never sell out for a piece
Heading on