Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Famiglia, artist - Nyck Caution. Album song Open Flame, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 30.07.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Pro Era
Song language: English
Famiglia |
| Yeah, my famiglia real G’s so you never hear 'em |
| They just go about their business, never leave a witness |
| Y’all would rather post it on the 'Gram to maintain an image |
| Shit is ridiculous |
| I’m so appalled, this is no one’s fault, but everybody’s responsible |
| They all shitted on the kid when he had a little dream |
| But they love him when he’s doin' the impossible |
| You dudes is comical |
| Ayy, yeah |
| Ayy, ayy, yeah |
| Get that motherfucker (Yeah) |
| Yeah |
| My brother told me «Go easy on those guys» (Guys) |
| They gon' have it harder when they see the kiddo rise (See the kiddo rise) |
| Beatrix, I’m gaugin' out they eyes (Eyes) |
| Every time these verses are reprised (Yeah) |
| Kill 'em with success and they’ll never have a clue to how they died (Died, |
| died) |
| Think about it |
| You ain’t really mad at me, you bitches mad at yourself |
| That shit is bad for your health |
| But fuck it (Fuck it, go and drag 'em to Hell) |
| You a selfish motherfucker, only pass to yourself (Only pass to yourself) |
| Maybe I should tone it down a little, ask for some help (I should ask for some |
| help) |
| But there’s two types of people in this world (Yeah) |
| Those who gotta ask (Ask), and those who make it happen themself |
| And I refuse to be a bitch like you, I’m not a bit like you |
| I’ve been stabbed in the back so many times that it slip right through |
| Life’s a bitch, but every dog has his day (Yeah) |
| Wait until that bitch bite you |
| Yeah, my famiglia real G’s so you never hear 'em |
| 'Cause they be low as fuck, try me, come and test your luck |
| I be tryna chill, but the problems always level up |
| Feel like Meadow’s dad, venting to a memo pad |
| When it ends, does it really all cut to black? |
| 'Cause if it does I hope the afterlife will cut us slack (Slack) |
| I’ve been to Hell and back (Back) |
| Already walking dead (Dead) |
| Feel like a motherfuckin' zombie |
| So much pussy I’m denying bitches |
| They get with us, then they lie with us |
| Big stone, wide eyes see my diamonds glisten |
| Hustle harder than Tracy Morgan in the '90s, nigga |
| Gutter grimy like a '90s nigga |
| Doggystyle, the right position |
| Kiss the girls, make 'em cry |
| Tellin' more lies than a politician |
| Got the gas with me in the Trump Towers |
| Burn the shit down if the nigga win it |
| Only sold my soul 'cause I tried to flip it, huh |
| The pussy mine, use my tongue to write initial, huh |
| I take your flow, diss you with it, I ain’t fuckin' with it |
| Say «Mister, mister, please give me some of that, I need a fixin'» |
| We get high as fuck, then we fight and fuck |
| It’s like Guns N' Roses with the Twisted Sister |
| Eyes dilated 'cause this 'cid is vicious |
| Got a queen kissin' on my sex pistol |
| I’m in the Gucci, Snoopy, fully lucid, death grippin' |
| Drunk drivin', swervin' left with it |
| Feel like the only rapper who can match his magic madness is probably Mathers |
| Bipolar disorder, man, I might be manic |
| I battle myself for practice, survival tactics, I adapt it |
| I asked God to show my way, but map, He never handed |
| Satan’s guestlist |
| Fuckin' Rihanna in Bahamas top of my checklist |
| Turquoise settin' blood diamonds |
| Die for my necklace |
| Only-child syndrome, selfish |
| Trapped in my mind, doin' a sentence |
| Shit, somebody help him (Help him, please, help him, help him) |
| Shit, somebody help him (Help him, please) |