Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Roman Candles, artist - The Alchemist. Album song Bread, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 29.11.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: ALC
Song language: English
Roman Candles |
| Ugh, Hawaiian shorts shit, four-fifths, pour stick |
| Cut the dog’s shit, fuck a whore, never course ship |
| Knocked a couple whores down, raw, never cause shit |
| Got a gorgeous dick, I was fortunate, you fraudulent |
| I got the formula, cop the 550 with the spoiler |
| Bitch I’m kinda spoiled like a four-year-old |
| Ugh, live in the flesh of real macaroni |
| My ring of Rollies like «Ring a Ring o’Rosie» |
| Kill a Hossa, I’m realer than a river monster |
| To rock for my niggas is an honor |
| Recordin' life, not lyrics |
| I was visited by spirits, your shit isn’t authentic |
| Genuine article, like 9/11 with the fog lights |
| With the arm all I write is all white, well all right |
| The guns in the pawn tight |
| Beef is on sight, niggas didn’t have the foresight |
| In Dior slippers, can’t get caught slippin' |
| 'Cause when it’s on the clique, it be like «shoulda worn the Pippen’s» |
| Rock the bucket like I’m fishin', who dissin' might come up missin' |
| Got a hundred bitches, grew up underprivileged |
| Old drama’s never water under bridges |
| I still love the corners from a distance |
| Keep a pistol where my dick is, this shit is Bisquick |
| I don’t fit in, I’m still a misfit |
| Ugh, higher cause shit, Thought shit |
| Triple black Maserati Sport skrtin' out the crib porch, yeah |
| Auction at Sotheby’s, I bought a rare portrait |
| The City of Brotherly’s an iron clad fortress |
| I’m at the orchestra, focused like Randolph and Mortimer |
| Talk in broken language like a foreigner |
| The one and only that’s more holy than matrimony |
| I charge you and your homie with actin' phony |
| A real impostor, I’m deeper than the realest roster |
| Allah’s my bodyguard, no Kevin Costner |
| Ugh, come get your life augmented, your image is schizophrenic |
| My memory, photogenic |
| Return of the prodigal-like, a periodical, methodical type |
| Game changer, call an audible like, well all right |
| Y’all niggas rappin', all hype |
| Ya temperament is the equivalent of soft light |
| Get caught trippin' and visit the mortician |
| Right with the shortlist of niggas who support snitchin' |
| I’m like ghetto Gastro up in the kitchen |
| Embarkin' on this official, astrophysical mission |
| I broke the internet like an intermission |
| Raisin' the bar is like raisin' the partition |
| The messiah that stretch higher to catch fire |
| The empire of the motherfuckin' esquire |
| I know that you feel that you’re on you’re own |
| All your lucky stars |
| Listen to me, listen to me (Yeah) |
| Listen to me |
| Listen to me |