Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Audiopium, artist - Nyck @ KnightAlbum song Nyck @ Knight, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.07.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cinematic, Pro Era
Song language: English
Audiopium |
Sounds like another word |
Yeah, Kirk, you gotta add your shit to this |
Yeah, yo, my nigga, don’t even trip |
I ain’t trippin' |
You know we get the dollar slices for free |
Yeah, too broke shit |
Yeah, yeah, bankrolls ya bitch |
Know what I’m saying? |
We got them fiends round |
All the way round the block twice, nigga |
Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s go (Pro Era!) |
Beast Coast stunna 'bout to feast this summer |
Brand new pies, got the pizza coming |
This dough man don’t need no oven |
My dope-heads they need that |
Audiopium, audio |
Audiopium, audio |
Beast Coast stunna 'bout to feast this summer |
Brand new pies, got the pizza coming |
This dough man don’t need no oven |
My dope-heads they need that |
Audiopium, audio |
Audiopium, audio |
Yeah, I’m about to cop some more, it’s on me, got the guap I’m toured |
And cops circle 'round the block, know it’s time for sure |
(Ayo, keep that shit low nigga) Lock the door |
This shit pop when I got the chord |
And I need more money yeah, por favor |
And I sell a ton can’t wait, hold some more |
Serve bass, got loud, got more in store |
If you ain’t do it like I do it, you ain’t popping boy |
Rap, no pop, record |
They got fiend by the back up cause, backing off |
With the price of crack, that could crack your jaw |
Then running with the packs like I pack them all |
And we running like a pack of dogs, pack the floor |
The pack blast heat leave 'em lacking thoughts |
They can feel it in the streets so we tax 'em off |
I gotta break up all my piece let 'em blast it off, audiopium |
Beast Coast stunna 'bout to feast this summer |
Brand new pies, got the pizza coming |
This dough man don’t need no oven |
My dope-heads they need that |
Audiopium, audio |
Audiopium, audio |
Beast Coast stunna 'bout to feast this summer |
Brand new pies, got the pizza coming |
This dough man don’t need no oven |
My dope-heads they need that |
Audiopium, audio |
Audiopium, audio |
Still adding up my epiphanies |
I shall abide to apply with all my abilities |
Took all my alibis, bye for they lies |
When they tryna belittle me, bid on me Guess you wanna see the bitter me Chilling with the don and yeah it’s war, put a hit on me You can smoke all you want |
All you want bitch, just don’t fuck with my purp |
I’m not finna work for no white man |
Put that on my heart with my right hand |
Latino heat, I do my dance |
Watch the money roll like that’s my plan |
I only hang with a gang full of leaders |
I earned my stripes, pledge of allegiance |
Fuck all my teachers, I’m hoping you see this |
And everyone else that was non-believers |
Sunshine and that knife in 47 shit, for forever, shit |
You ain’t fucking with mine, whatever bitch |
Whatever Nyck spit sounding like Beretta clips |
It’s been a minute but the Era got it’s members together |
I’m with the world, got that notice, STEEZ quick to the catch yeah |
Want you back, remember what was missing from the game |
Audiopium, I’ll probably be addicted forever, yeah |
Audiopium |
We keep the dope fiends itching |
This that crack y’all been missing |
Audiopium |
Shoot this through your veins and take a trip and |
R.I.P. |
King Cap, you gave us vision |
Audiopium |
We keep the dope fiends itching |
This that crack y’all been missing |
Audiopium |
Shoot this through your veins and take a trip and |
R.I.P. |
King Cap, you gave us vision |
(Soul searchin') 'till my flows are perfect |
I ain’t trynna be a slave to grow old from workin' |
Sorry BADA$$, you lucky that I peeped it second |
Tell them niggas keep it steppin' with they beat selection |
Check the melodies, it’s so heavenly |
That shit’ll get your hipster move with no 7D's |
Audi-opium, can I bust soliloquies |
Got that shit mix and mastered both remedies |
Grab a spoonful, we servin' up a pot |
And you know we gotta serve it while it’s hot |
I’m flowin' like a volcano, I’m drippin' verses off the top |
Dirty cops still swervin' on the block |
Lookin' for black kids, that spittin' up acid |
It’s in my jeans so don’t worry what my pants is Get with the script it’s that ignorant shit |
And we bound to get sick of it quick and I ain’t sealin' my lips |
It’s the shift, I know you feel it man |
We blowin' up like a ceiling fan |
Droppin' off jewels like Killa Cam’s man |
When it comes to kickin' verses I’m Mr. Van Damme |
Crushin' strawberry, it’s the jam |
So throw up both hands if you can |
Ironic how I’m killin' this shit, until they bury me My volume is going in depth with longevity |
Stupid |