| I would like to
|
| Welcome everybody to
|
| Another episode of
|
| A man and his plants
|
| Strike up the band (Yeah)
|
| Smack up your man (Yeah)
|
| Stack up the bands, all glory to God (God?)
|
| All glory to me (Yeah)
|
| Bitch, I ain’t Chance, a man and his plants
|
| Corduroy pants
|
| Now I’m so grown
|
| I was so sick of American livin', I pack up my shit, disappear and I’m gone
|
| I assassin down that avenue, thinkin' revenue
|
| Fingernails filthy from that cocaine residue
|
| Who am I supposed to be? |
| What am I supposed to do?
|
| If you came up in that murder murder, you would feel me too
|
| Bulletproof vest when I ride (Ride)
|
| Long dark hair, brown eyes (Eyes)
|
| And the bullshit I survived
|
| Made me so cold inside
|
| So I turn up the heat and start bustin'
|
| A Pisces, I’m sent to the thuggin' (Yeah)
|
| And you can’t back up all the shit that you talk
|
| But I can, you bitches not nothin', yeah
|
| So bring in the horns, the Devil reborn
|
| I was broken and torn, in love with the porn
|
| In love with the flesh, I look good in the mesh
|
| And leather and lace, groove with the murderin' pace
|
| Ending the early debates like Future who movin' the bass
|
| Smokin' these crates, I did it with gentleman’s grace
|
| Give me the space to grow
|
| Lettin' you know that I’m in the zone
|
| Oh, you stackin' some bread like it’s Jenga?
|
| Now I’m a latin pop singer (Yeah)
|
| My girl and my attitude meaner, huh
|
| Had to switch up my demeanor, two facin' like Harvey Dent
|
| You bent out of shape, I came out the gate with a rage
|
| All I be seein' these days, I’ve psychiced empires with blood on their hands
|
| and their fangs, look
|
| If you — think you — drainin' - me of — energy, you not
|
| I got — silver — bullets — loaded — up
|
| Every — liquid — shot, yeah
|
| Windows so big in my crib, my hope feel like a solar flare
|
| My aura beams are gold, I swear, stashed the drugs in tupperware
|
| Dancin' in the underwear, then bowin' some reggaeton
|
| Used to drink the wine alone in my solitary zone
|
| No Nirvana, a latin americana, got a thing for speaking spanglish,
|
| pero no entiendes nada
|
| Why even bother? |
| Communication just killed us now
|
| They used to sleep on us, but oh, they feel us now
|
| I need to feel you now
|
| Need to feel you now
|
| Need to feel you now
|
| Strike up the band (Yeah)
|
| Smack up your man (Yeah)
|
| Stack up the bands, all glory to God (God?)
|
| All glory to me (Yeah)
|
| Bitch, I ain’t Chance, a man and his plants
|
| Corduroy pants
|
| Now I’m so grown
|
| I was so sick of American livin', I pack up my shit, just appear and I’m gone |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song This Mexican (American) Life, artist - Speak. Album song A Man + His Plants, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп