Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song DreamLand, artist - Smif-N-Wessun. Album song The All, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 21.02.2019
Record label: Duck Down
Song language: English
DreamLand |
| Yeah, uh |
| Wuh |
| Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh |
| Used to be a dreamer |
| Now I’m just a schemer |
| Uh |
| Wuh-wuh-wuh |
| Zone out |
| Zone out |
| Stoned out |
| I really miss grandma, she baked the best cakes |
| Uncle God schooled me on rap, he had the fresh tapes |
| First date broke my heart, I was just eight |
| Old God told me from start, «Never trust snakes» |
| I had the flat-top fade, Smoke had the most waves |
| Cuz pops died in the tub, that was the dope fade |
| That cocaine had us thinkin' we could be all paid |
| We all seen, done things, I won’t say no names |
| To whom it may concern, remain anonymous |
| The first dollar I earned was some dishonest shit |
| I was way too young to even know better |
| Made mad friends and my friend lonely as 'Lo sweater |
| Jyeah, my right hand man had name brand kicks |
| My shits? |
| Thom McAn |
| Blow a kiss from my Aunt Janette to Barbara Ann |
| To advance, feed fam', and get rich, the Father’s plan |
| Remember teeskeet from Lexington with the three-piece suits? |
| Before any Timberland, I wore army boots, uh |
| My brother David was a drill sergeant |
| So those fatigues was part of my life, for real, private |
| I had a cousin named Fitzgerald from Tennessee |
| His father, my Uncle Edwin, influenced me |
| You know my daddy was a drummer but his daddy was a runner |
| He was puttin' up his numbers |
| Peace to Bay Mayo, R-I-P to Matteo |
| Love my nigga Maino, I.G., and Aito |
| Salute my Harlem connect |
| My nigga Billy, mob style, respect |
| Ayo, police might try and corner you |
| Don’t take 7th ave, take 8th avenue |
| I’m glad to see all that I did |
| I say that to say, «You gotta love the life you live» |
| God bless Nana and her son Beau and Uncle Ary |
| Any drug found in the house, dawg, I’m sorry |
| I always was a knucklehead, sellin' jums, running with duffel-heads |
| Who always wanted bread, yup, some are dead |
| 'Member Pumas and lottos, staircase rhymes? |
| McDonalds, the hood cartels, me and my Pablos? |
| Wash somethin', you frontin'? |
| Now we here we come, movin' like them spranglers with thirty-eights |
| Pull-out, we owe you one |
| Go, son, the roof was the batcave |
| A black slave, now I’m just addicted to rap |
| Holdin' the MAC, crazy it’s us, the dust boys |
| Who would ever think we touch toys? |
| Strictly just robbin' niggas and fuck choices |
| Aunt Priscilla and Lo, damn, I miss y’all |
| As a dumb youngin' so glad I never dissed y’all |
| But I was taught respect |
| The melders’ll throw your ass in check |
| Make the wrong move and get wet, BLAOW! |
| Yuh, uh |
| Wuh |
| Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh |
| Used to be a dreamer |
| Now I’m just a schemer |
| Uh |
| Wuh-wuh-wuh |
| Wuh |
| Used to a breadm |
| Now I’m just a scheme |
| Wuh |
| Wuh |