Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Luca Brasi Speaks, artist - Starlito. Album song Cold Turkey, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 01.07.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Grind Hard
Song language: English
Luca Brasi Speaks |
Betrayed in a way, mental state in a rage |
Praying every day, saying grace over plates |
Heart full of hatred |
Forever in pain conveyed in the tear drops on my face |
Focused on the past, hard to let it go |
Cards will never fold |
If I call to let it show, y’all would never know |
Don’t talk to everyone |
The one’s who listen, deep down don’t feel it |
Giving fake advice while concealing they intentions |
Talk to you after they pretending that they with you |
Turn right around and then tell the whole city |
Behind their backs, in a timely fashion |
Look dead like drama when they llama blasting |
Dreams of me being dead on my mama’s mattress |
Even there ain’t safe when my mama’s back |
With my mind collapsing — hustle real hard to provide |
Go to jail, am I grindin' backwards? |
Preacher at church steady telling people they should have faith |
Does logic matter? |
Crack users my congregation in the trap trappin |
Maybe I’m the pastor, designer fabric |
Pyrex jar with the butter knife turn it white, Michael Jackson |
Pipe they after my life’s disaster |
Broke niggas all around and my right for braggin |
I’m the type to handle, lead examples |
Press the hammer, get your leg dismantled |
In the streets trying to freeze my cheese, it’ll be you or me? |
There’s a harder gamble |
I’ma squeeze at your feet, hit you dead in your knees |
Then stand up in your chest, blowing out your candle |
Brought out the Phantom, pour a drink inside it |
No thinking bout it, peep game around it |
Hostile environment, I’m residing in |
Miley Cyrus, chick in college trying it |
Buyers buying it |
Spending this money while alive more than likely not allowed to die with it |
Fuck ups rival it, then that rifle spit |
Right on sight your whip, bite on side your lip |
Aim for the face, shorty I’m with |
Got ass like a horse told her aim for the waist |
Brushing my grill, you’s aim for the pace |
But when I sip syrup I kinda fuck with the taste |
Got cuffed in the cage but they called it a tank |
Special Response, pulling up in a tank |
Best friend told homie had betrayed but to say it |
Stay solid, praying «I'm a make it, I’ma make it» |
Keep telling myself «History is in making» |
Niggas hold they nuts wanna favor when you make it |
I was in the paper, not for making no paper |
Body tied up, someone left boy naked |
I was interrogated, never gave no statement |
Know a few fakes who can’t say what I stated |
I don’t gang bang but my gun go bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang |
Phone going rang-rang-rang-rang-rang |
Told a bitch, fuck her, «I ain’t got no change» |
Sit on your ass, all you do is complain |
That’s if I ain’t entitled for em under go strange |
Strapped up like shoes that ain’t got no strings |
Niggas jumping all around but to me it looks strange |
When I’m on stage it’s because I got paid |
Me being real on the strength of being real |
Sometimes I feel I can do without fame (do without fame) |
In the life of a general |
Do without fame (do without fame)… |