Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pink Beetle, artist - Rejjie Snow. Date of issue: 18.10.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pink Beetle |
| Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name |
| Your kingdom come, you will be done |
| On earth as it is in heaven |
| Got my chariot waitin' |
| You know I’m stayin' alive |
| Be it Heaven or Hades |
| You know I gotta survive |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Keep my feet above everything |
| Yea, you know that I’m crazy |
| Got my angels in full swing |
| Yea, nothin' can phase me |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Swing low, swing low |
| And I-oooooh-yea |
| And I-oooooh-yea |
| All these niggas rappers |
| Playin' rappers, greatest actors |
| Me, I kept it humble |
| Me, I did it, this my greatest chapter |
| Written here where bodies lay |
| Mumified and on display |
| Zulu with the shackles |
| Freein' weapons be the up and keep |
| You gon' make me catch a body like them fuckin' rappers do |
| Or you gon' make me have to make a record about fuckin' you |
| You gon' make me have to have these gold teeth and tattoos |
| You gon' make me have to crash Mercedes, so I’m beggin' you |
| Shut the ballin' late in Dublin, purple fluid in my cup and |
| Broken dreams and wet dreams, there’s alcohol inside my gut |
| All you say is, «fuck me better» |
| Chicken grease up on my sweater |
| Fast food and bad mood’s equivalent of hardly better |
| Yea, I keep my 'fro intact |
| Camel causin' heart attacks, bitches on my fuckin' lap |
| Toe tags and handbags, the smell make my balls sag |
| Portraits of my mama’s face, poppa knows I’m sayin' grace |
| This here be my only take |
| Got my chariot waitin' |
| You know I’m stayin' alive |
| Be it Heaven or Hades |
| You know I gotta survive |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Keep my feet above everything |
| Yea, you know that I’m crazy |
| Got my angels in full swing |
| Yea, nothin' can phase me |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Swing low, swing low |
| And I-oooooh-yea |
| And I-oooooh-yea |
| 93 my born date |
| It’s King |
| His penmanship will resonate and legacy deteriorate |
| In such relay, yea |
| Don’t stimulate, yea |
| Just regulate, yea |
| Try to educate, yea |
| Will imitate, yea, yea, yea |
| Two big bricks for the low, you snake |
| Our dreams they came crashin' in |
| I was always born to win |
| Crack heads in Dublin city |
| Love me, keep me covenant |
| Prayin' to my lover-hoe |
| She hold me down, I’m celibate |
| Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah |
| Now I’m prayin', «hallelujah,» that I’m not the shooter |
| Crashin' up, that record spinnin' |
| Way before this rap been winnin' |
| Y’all was steady pluckin' chickens |
| Trophies in my mama’s kitchen |
| Champagne and lovely women fortify my old soul |
| Cause it’s doin' numbers that I multiplied, I don’t know |
| Every single record I be cryin' at my old hoes |
| Rejjie-this and Rejjie-that, you fuckin' bitch, I hate y’all |
| Got my chariot waitin' |
| You know I’m stayin' alive |
| Be it Heaven or Hades |
| You know I gotta survive |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Keep my feet above everything |
| Yea, you know that I’m crazy |
| Got my angels in full swing |
| Yea, nothin' can phase me |
| Swing low, swing low |
| Swing low, swing low |
| And I-oooooh-yea |
| And I-oooooh-yea |