| You are now rocking to the sounds of my dawg. |
| DJ Green Lantern
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| Bar Exam 2 nigga. |
| It’s a motherfuckin' holiday bitches
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| I slang hope to the world like my name was Obama
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| Shakin' hands with your father while I’m fuckin' yo momma
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| Drama
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| But I’ma say I’m in a league of my own
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| Blowin' my own horn
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| Horns of my cousin, Chevy in Texas
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| I had to shout him out he’s from the south
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| Got pussy with me for my brother when he get out
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| No doubt
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| It goes one for the money
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| Two for the show
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| Three for the M.I.C. |
| now let’s go
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| June’s flow is pro
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| Turn my speakers up louder
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| Learn my shit
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| Then recite it up in the shower
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| No homo
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| Yeah, peep my promo on behalf of the Bar Exam 2
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| This is my message from me to you
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| They’ll probably be happy when I’m long gone
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| But that’ll never happen cause I got way too many songs
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| MC’s take note, but don’t quote too much
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| Find your own style and get 'mo in touch
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| Plus
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| Pussy make the world go round and mine spinnin' out of control
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| Where I’ma stop, nobody knows
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| You don’t want me close to ya
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| Scared I might roast ya
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| But if I should stop, then who these streets gonna toast to?
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| Here’s the book of life, I just wrote you a new page
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| Inspired by the beat, by the smell of my purple haze
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| Hey, Grand River niggas up to no good
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| June 1st
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| I bring you all closer to my hood
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| Wall Street
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| Wall Street
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| Yeah, yeah
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| Uh huh
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| My appetite for destruction
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| My type to do the bustin'
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| I eat the beat up like I got an appetite for percussion
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| Lighten the mood like it’s night and there’s moonlight
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| Platoon, high on them shrooms but this ain’t no food fight
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| Witch
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| I could fly on a broom stick to my rude type
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| My crew don’t be 'bout no excuses, gesundheit
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| God bless you, sneeze
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| I’ll wet you, sleeves
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| Your arms ain’t like ours yet, our recipe is…
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| Beef on a platter
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| Go on and chatter, it don’t matter
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| My cheese, I’m eatin' like I’m obese but only fatter
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| I only know how to do it the Harriet Tub way
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| I’m Underground like the Railroad, I’m prepared to get ugly
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| My narrative thug day, can only compare me to drugs
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| I take a nigga way from him like Jared from Subway
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| You, could, never ever be on my level
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| You don’t know what you’re in
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| But you’re in/urine guns like I took a pee on my metal
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| Just me and my shuttle
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| We fly
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| We go together like my feet and my petal
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| We ride
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| How could I not be greatest?
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| When I got Muhammad Ali boxin' inside me in Vegas
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| Aye
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| Haters
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| I just wanna say this
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| I know I’m underrated
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| But I ain’t under paid when it comes to makin'
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| Money
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| I’m so hot I feel like the son of Satan
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| I’m so hot I feel like the sun is hatin'
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| Your bitch
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| Hhhhuhhhhuhhhh
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| Breathin' like a hundred H’s
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| I am the reason for your under takin'
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| There’s only one equation
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| And it equals I am the sum of greatness
|
| Yeah, yeah
|
| Uh huh |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wall Street , by - Royce 5'9. Song from the album Bar Exam 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп