Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song HÂRD., artist - Tobe Nwigwe. Date of issue: 05.05.2018
Song language: English
HÂRD. |
| Yeah |
| Get twisted Sundays |
| Uhh |
| Young young young young young Tob |
| Why you rapping so hard |
| I don’t know |
| I hop on tracks like Geronomo |
| My flow sicker than a common cold |
| Gladiator with the bars |
| Killing all the competition like I’m Maximo |
| Hop on any beat they ask me for |
| Eat the beat up then it’s Kachifo |
| That’s goodnight in Igbo |
| I’m the debo form of Edgar Allen Poe |
| I know what the hood is wildin' for |
| That’s why all my bars are casserole |
| To the homies in the cage tryna catch a wave |
| Puffin on that cabbage smoke |
| They go nuts |
| They go pistachio |
| They just really need a chaperone |
| And I’m the leader can’t you see the flow is aquafina |
| I just keep their glasses full |
| Got em taking sips of water |
| Lowkey feeling like a martyr |
| No wrestling I’m the king of the ring |
| Feel like Jerry Lawler |
| Used to flip with dub in his impala |
| Singing wanna be a baller |
| Young black and I’m a scholar |
| Skin the same color copper |
| PSA you look dirty if ya white tee got brown around the collar |
| Wipe ya neck off brodie |
| But don’t ever be ashamed |
| Cause I swear I was the same |
| When I wasn’t able contemplated Cain |
| Then I got word from a birdie |
| Came down with a holy kiss |
| Told me all my sauce was erroneous |
| If my flow wasn’t the holiest |
| That was 2011 |
| A spec in your eye changed the spectrum |
| Hell round about the age of 7 I felt like all my dogs could go to Heaven |
| Roof bark loud if you with me |
| Black proud and I’m gifted |
| I’m tryna pack crowds |
| Till I’m sixty |
| Make rap a cash cow and get milky |
| Look on the low I was told to beware of dairy like I was lactose |
| Then I turned 25 and realized it was only by those that lack toast |
| Boy I’m talking bread |
| You need that there to get ahead |
| Not just good intentions |
| Good intentions ain’t gon put no roof over ya head |
| So get ya paper shake the feds read ya books stay ahead |
| Cut through the bull like a bayonet |
| And pray like Jabez for the days ahead |
| Ouu |
| Ouu |
| Yeah yeah |
| Ouu |
| Ouu |
| I’m gone |