Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song No Bullshit , by - Solomon Childs. Release date: 03.03.2022
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
No Bullshit |
| You don’t want to play Rob, or quit your day job |
| Cuz I stay sharp and play smart |
| You covered no angles, you singing the blues like Bojangles |
| And Dizzy Gillispie, now let’s see |
| Is he a great one, is he a Gretzky? |
| Recipes for success spell relief |
| Rest in peace unless you invest in me |
| Yes indeed, I left your chest piece a mess, you see |
| Crazy as a wet loosie, yo |
| I let uzi’s blow, but no hard feelings, bro |
| Cuz it’s hard dealing low, rappers bogart, they stealing flows |
| High as ceiling chandeliers, I’m an endangered species |
| I’m fielded like a panda bear, not a man that cares |
| So, so, so, proceed with caution, age the speed that’s awesome |
| World’s full of fuck-ups, we need abortion |
| Yo, your win, son, it’s gruesome, cuz you win some, I lose none |
| Head to head, let’s make it a two-some |
| If you come from the ruthless slums |
| Where, mothers lose they sons, cuz others misuse they guns |
| Bloods run the gutters, other than that |
| We covered in crack, hood? |
| Hood is flooded with traps |
| Like pigeons, wings, wings, wings flutter and flap |
| But never leave the ground, so, so, best believe I’m down |
| Best believe I’m down, breath the sound, inhale the drum |
| Do it for the frail and young, the jail and slums |
| Bitches bump this shit while they get they nails done |
| Do it from the Isle that where I’m from, Staten |
| Relaxing, relapsing in the back of Cadillac on Castleton |
| Cops hassling, I flip the bird and laugh at 'em |
| I mastered pen, crafted paragraphs faster than half these half assed |
| Rappers tattling |
| Banks in to burt, wasn’t baptised, I took a bath in a church |
| And not even half of the works, laughed then I cursed when I snatched my first |
| purse |
| Cursed from birth, but worse than that, we emerge the crap |
| So much weight on my shoulder it’ll hurt your back |
| Know the ropes, cuz the older folks know the facts |
| But when it’s all said and done, Mr. Bush |
| Mr. Bush, alls we want is our soldiers back… |
| That’s it… |
| «Yeah, that’s right you better walk away |
| Go on, walk away, cuz I’ma burn this mothafucker down! |
| King Kong ain’t got shit on me!» |
| It be nothing but smooth sailing |
| When the heat shot, now your crew’s bailing |
| I refuse to bow down, refuse to lay down |
| Five and turn, and let the pistols pound |
| Where the fuck is the kid’s crown, lady luck blowing all over the dice |
| Seven forty five, realize the color of cajan rice |
| This the passion of Christ, done seen a lot of shit |
| Felt a lot of shit, til the rap shit in my boots |
| Like how the fuck the raps get in my boots |
| Around metal it sizzle, wrap more dead meat than Reynolds |
| Injuries that have you missing more games than Kerry Kittells |
| There’s a war going on outside, you hear the fiddles? |
| And you so called units go head and jump |
| And get your body severed apart with pumps |
| Talk slick nigga… talk slick, now! |
| Come on… fix ya muthafucking face |
| Talk slick, bitch, get licked, faggot |