Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Calisthenics, artist - Nolan the Ninja. Album song YEN, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.09.2017
Record label: SPORT CAST
Song language: English
Calisthenics |
I’m from the strip where niggas 'Strapped' as if their first name was |
Bokeem or Fredro, quick to let the tech blow |
No need for info, know I rep the mitten proudly |
It’s 48 227, the shit’s embedded inside me |
You know where I be, play the crib until the cash talk |
Smoking sticky through the asphalt, tip them hats off, shit |
Witness the reign, only twenty & change |
Went from being shit to motherfuckers knowing my name |
Can’t stop until I’m pushing the Range, cruising '96 and |
Bumping Illmatic, mapping motions with my brother, Eric |
I thought I told you that the text is esoteric |
Only built for the live where I reside, no façade |
I’m cut from a cloth that these niggas couldn’t sport |
In this bloodsport, niggas don’t play fair, I follow suit |
Don’t fuck with me then it’s fuck you, I’m blunt as can be |
I’ve been a nuisance since they hung me on them nooses, it’s no excuses |
A year ago, I was playing PRhyme |
Now I got Nickel Nine on the line, rooting for me to shine, it’s real |
Cuz now the veterens see me as brethren, fuck being pressured |
Cuz I’mma snap necks when I catch wreck, let ‘em know I’m next in |
(Turn up your stereo, my nigga) |
You’re officially tuned in to a moolie who |
Verbally paints a movie by jotting lines on a looseleaf |
Poetic prophet who persistent & play the position of gifted |
Extra Prolific, like them niggas from Hieroglyphics |
If I said it, I meant it, I’m a fucking menace, I’m here from a minute |
Clocking calisthenics, calculating my quest to conquer |
Until it’s 40K at concerts, ya heard |
I work for every buck, murking every bust, the spread’s very plush |
Canary truck burier, six friends will carry ya |
Listening to David Ruffin, Mary Puff, Barry Chuck, Barry plus |
I inherited nothing much but motherfuck a fairy dust |
Delegate with shell and flames, Mac-11 wrapped in black & yellow tape in |
cellophane |
Selling caine, this Heckler and Koch that I got is so well endowed |
You should tell the cops that it’s immaculate, it would actually still look |
masculine |
If I dropped it on Ellen’s crotch in the park while I’m knocking It’s Dark and |
Hell Is Hot |
I got no time to be telling lies to these jealous guys |
While I try to vibe to Big L and Nas, Makaveli, Ready To Die watching Belly |
That shit is like my daily exercise, shots fired, check vitals, check your child |
Nobody check out, might wanna check your bials |
Nigga, wipe off your daughter, we bite too hard to respect your growl |
Shut your mouth if you’re skeptical, not me, I’m going the extra mile |
I’m at the farm, extra arm, ready to wet the cows, we could bet the house |
We come to split you, the difference between writer’s block and uninspired |
Some of which are against ya and; |
some are biased |
Just understand there’s a difference between a man being hot and a man who just |
under fire |
Damnit, just come and try us, the humble pie, the young empire, them lies told |
By those jumbo liars, put them iron throws at your body, will turn your hole |
into size of jambalaya |
The undeniable, diabolical, last of a dying molecule |
I’m sicker than your average, dinosaur when it’s time to roll |
When that drama close, you’ll be traumatized & be kind of froze |
I call that shit trama-toast, comical, fingers round his throat |
If he outspoken, see if he can rhyme what he got in his notebook |
Got his nose without choking, if not, adios you marrocon |
You got the baddest hoe, I got the Holly home, check your hottie, homes |
Me and Nolan catching bodies while we body throw |
Playing catch with zombies while we standing next to giants yelling hiddy ho |