Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Thunder Bells, artist - Psycho LesDate of issue: 08.08.2016
Song language: English
Thunder Bells |
| Okay niggas knee jump |
| Alright niggas knee jump, look |
| Let’s go baby |
| I got my bars in jail cell |
| Keep action gun in my main pell |
| Three cars, two houses, moving this coke well |
| Locked up, I made bail, fuck it if they fail |
| See me in the Porsche same color as egg shell |
| Chains round the neck so you know we get hits well |
| Gotta smack niggas if I shoot em they gon tell, whoo |
| Got so many snow behind me it’s a honey trail |
| Can’t stand these niggas, they hug they body frail |
| bodies niggas about milk |
| First name Flush, middle nil, last kill |
| Still be on your block selling dimes like advil |
| Ya’ll niggas just took a plane to our field |
| Got your wife inside a teller just to get a nut |
| And I ain’t leaving the spot until they closing up |
| And I’m a be right back when they open up |
| When I write it’s like an armed robbery, heist I’m Neison |
| I spit like the paranormal poltergeist rolling dice |
| I rhyme like the Passion of Christ |
| Many are called but few are chosen |
| You and I cutting lines we’ll leave the face frozen |
| Had a lot o niggas that died but life goes on |
| Rhyme like the snipers right from the eiffel |
| Spit truth like I inhale pages of the bible |
| A grown man still gotta ride too |
| Cinematic fellow just like a Michael |
| Salute the G rep the street lead the ‘onomy |
| Rhyme like the |
| When I’m back like a planet getting hit with comic |
| I grind outside o your paradigm of logic |
| Psychotic, neurotic and they wonder how I paddle |
| It’s deep I do it in my sleep, that’s how I got it |
| Yow old school, new school, this tattoo school |
| And we don’t need the fucking approval |
| You get knocked out with the south border |
| Outlaw, I don’t smoke nothing grown outdoors |
| Puffing that shit that give you cottonmouth |
| You see the limo pulling up that’s me hopping out |
| With your bitch behind me one titty popping out |
| Queens in this business what’s popping now |
| All that tough talk kill all that |
| Before we rubbing your DNA off the wall with a Brillo pad |
| I’m the truth hook me up to a polygraph |
| These new niggas is sweeter than a telegram |
| That’s the bitch asking me where the molly at |
| This is our bodies and one percent body fat |
| Apple whole yeah we swimming in the butt — |
| Hold up, wait a minute |
| I’m the push star rapper |
| I try to snap your wrist off |
| Four fifth slapper poetry is a pitchfork |
| With each eye on the game, I’m like a pitbull |
| Looking like a V when I shoot, then I crisscross |
| Gold pistol on the porch |
| I’m like ice with hot sauce |
| I write with the hatch off |
| I give you that feeling that you just got topped off |
| Illa Gee tryna make the whole room pop off |
| New flow like night blues and bluray |
| Chemical imbalance come and drink the kool-aid, stop |
| Shorten your timeline and put you in your tomb stay |
| You stay anywhere motherfucker that’s where a goon play |
| It don’t matter I got your whole chapter |
| I rose from the ashes of brain waves and NASA |
| I got a million dollar reward for rap’s capture |
| You rap for the radio my rapture |
| Og this ya’ll want |
| This is what Hip-Hop been missing right |
| Oh now ya’ll should’ve paid attention |
| We still here baby |
| These radios and DJ’s don’t know what to play no more |
| All they do is listen to the fucking radio |
| Street music, street music |
| Psycho Les, Trag, what up Flush, Illa Gee |
| They so New York with it |
| They so New York with it |