Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Byron G, artist - Step Brothers. Date of issue: 20.01.2014
Song language: English
Byron G |
| Byron G! |
| I give a fuck who’s who |
| I chef the same when I’m preparing it |
| From bad kid to semi-rich middle-aged American |
| Rooted in my heritage, wounded for the derelicts |
| The root of every evil is the truth of all appearances |
| I crack the sound but the beat is still a barrier |
| And every fucking inch of every street around this area |
| The Venice carry us up like dough rises |
| Rap transit all city, no license |
| The city is beneath, I watch it from a bird’s eye |
| Brain dead, two left, they shot me in my third eye |
| Shot out my eye like a BB gun on Christmas day |
| Reach for pistols as I watch the fuckin' Pistons play |
| I set the tone with the writings on the wall |
| The city cleans it up like we inviting 'em all |
| Evolution’s all messed up now, chop the middleman |
| Stab the messenger, not the literal |
| I ran without a cause and was the best before I knew shit |
| Before I took a cruise ship, before I been to Houston |
| I ain’t tying up loose ends I let 'em waiver |
| Pulling out these lavers and pounding out the pavement |
| Gone |
| I’m the lyrical gangsta |
| I be a young motherfucker of the rap camp |
| Style symbolizes my nastiness like a tramp stamp |
| Wamp wamp, where it’s at |
| Fear fact, just let them legends die and I’ll inherit that |
| I’m fit for the carry, weight of the world I carry on my back |
| With a fairer sack, inquisitions to the mirror |
| Exactly what niggas fearing, see the future in it’s clearest |
| It is I, Doms, dropping lyrical pipe bombs |
| Until an icon, I choke your life like a python |
| I’m who the children look up, probably got 'em doing kush ups |
| Super high, call me Superfly, bitch I’m Jimmy Snuka |
| Got you feeling like you took a hit of heroin |
| And that’s for veterans, the way I bury 'em, embarrassing |
| You know better than puttin' that fire near the kerosine |
| I said don’t make me tell again like kids with speech impediments |
| They can’t see where my head is, I’m ahead |
| Roll the credits, roll the medics |
| Getting high till I feel I’m copacetic |
| Yo I’ve been trying to keep it silent, my tendency to violence |
| The suit and tie be fading, the truth about the shining |
| The sliding through the masses, smiling eyes through glasses |
| My style been altercated all the while to pile my cash in |
| But fuck that though, I want a ho that stay up late |
| My dirty bottom bitch to fuck with me until the wake |
| Mad illegal C.R.E.A.M, ain’t no rules, that’s the dream |
| In regal swimming pools prepping tools for future schemes |
| Laying low and creeping it, selling dope and sleeping it |
| Wrap the dough up in a rope, keep in what I’m sleeping in |
| Mattress fettucini, life’s a flick and I’m Fellini |
| Pinky diamond rings above the rims of ice martinis |
| Trees throughout the day, hour focused in a haze |
| We living life the most, been comatosed all the way |
| The toast to hell that may, cause making bread legit’s too real |
| So I’m folding on the stress of life to steal to catch a meal |