Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song It Ain't Us, artist - Specifics. Album song II, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.09.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Think Twice
Song language: English
It Ain't Us |
We separate in the center of the city |
Trying to get some chili fries late from the flaming guys on demaisy alize |
stains on my leg smell like five alive |
Three and goony first crystal boys after drinking |
Goldeneye matches |
Goldenboy flash cat and mouse stratagem |
And trying to get most professional |
Cuz bro, im a pro |
Sitting in our chairs low, super focused |
Sharing little tidbits we noticed |
Like chilling in the whip and keeping dry on a gray day |
Blazes in the fly faded vintage che faces |
Customized tie dyes lurking in the cave like bright eyes |
Slurping on the rare key lime shake |
Prepared for the rain under evergreen |
But it keeps falling on my head like a memory |
Tapes from ninety five play breaking up weed |
On backside of vida on the back page of |
Seventeen magazine |
It ain’t us |
The ones you want |
The ones you want are on the comp playing world of war craft |
Nonstop |
The ones you want are at the docs office getting diagnosed for |
Softness |
Bitch we’re not the ones you want |
They’re at the salon getting their fingernails polished |
And talking like fops and soccer moms |
They ain’t legit |
They’re at the gym giving each other spots and giving each other jobs |
Our mornings are spent like rent you need to pay for |
And it feels like nothing we can afford is enough to sleep properly |
Warm suddenly without warning these alarms on snooze |
I never snore like you don’t |
Explete roaring and roll |
Stack cereal bowls |
Then remind myself to see miracles here mearly breathe |
Circles on the dirty hours |
Verses under water in the shower whence we emerge |
Low flow low powered Spence’s |
Cold toes wet, eager |
You should see the shrik techniques developed since |
Teach tried to get me to work, please |
Pen figures red and worn well plus from L’s torn |
Knockin on the cellar door |
Four score and seven more |
Centuries of war, oh well |
Probably never let my seeds live, cause the world is similar to hell |
My skin feels clammy |
We need to make a trip down to miami wearing smiles made of sugar quite nappy |