Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Marie Antoinette , by - Styles P. Song from the album Dime Bag, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 25.10.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: EMPIRE
Song language: English
Marie Antoinette |
| Kill all of these rappers, homie, it’s too ill |
| I am in the Matrix but never takin' the blue pill |
| From Son of Sam town |
| If they ain’t got the ratchet, get a hatchet or gas the car to run a man down |
| Not a camera but a hammer so run when it pan 'round |
| 'Cause you don’t stand there when they gunnin' a man down |
| Unless you the clown that came to catch the spare round |
| If you pull it then you know how a bullet through air sound |
| Sicker than sickin' a dog on a sick man |
| Shoot it out with all of these rappers, not have shit planned |
| Put five in the startin' five, six in the sixth man |
| Whoever come off of the bench is gettin' drenched |
| Beat his face to a dent like I was Raid or Ip man |
| The Ghost back, this them old raps in a new me |
| But new me is older than the old me |
| Which would make the new me retarded |
| See your face and I blow heat, Ghost, nigga |
| Wanna meet up with the Reaper? |
| I’ll introduce you to him |
| Set me on a blind date once, I hit Medusa for 'em |
| Wise man can see that a peasant has a king in 'em |
| Dance wit' the devil but never for you to sing wit' 'em |
| Run wit' a demon but never for you to cling to 'em |
| See the angle, all of the angels ain’t got wings to 'em |
| Me? |
| I go black when they challenge my G |
| I blow my soul out the challenge tryna balance my chi |
| Channel my rage or it’s Animal P |
| Yeah, he plant-based but he could lead this room on a cannibal steez |
| You ain’t fuckin' with the Phantom, you see |
| If you don’t, 'cause I knocked your eyes out for your family to see, yeah! |
| Wack rappers shouldn’t be breathin', at least not a rhyme |
| Fuck about your set, my nigga, throw up a dollar sign |
| Five niggas, ten guns, right up in the Impala ride |
| Playin' Spotify, tryna spot a guy, then a shot’ll fly |
| All twenty in them shits, yeah, it’s homicide |
| You can get the picture, bitch, I ain’t got to dramatize |
| I ain’t take drama class, askin' where the scarma at |
| Hash in it, askin' shit like, «where his baby momma at?» |
| My hood, it get terrible |
| And the wrong territory leads to a burial |
| Fucked up scenario |
| Back on that shit, loadin' up, yeah, here we go |
| Comin' through the strip, niggas skip, like, there they go |
| Air holes in everything we pack, we prepared to go war like it’s overseas |
| Kill 'em if it’s over cheese or principles |
| You tried to violate what I oversee |
| Stick 'em like a boar with a hawk, watch 'em over-bleed |