| Tha Truth back, let’s get to business
|
| It’s something unfamiliar
|
| Call it a foreign image
|
| Paint heavily leaking
|
| I guess it wasn’t finished
|
| Riding with something freaky
|
| They tell me she the business
|
| The chain clear, stones never cloudy
|
| 60 rats or better, nigga ask about me
|
| Certified gangster, please don’t ever doubt me
|
| Welcome to the streets
|
| You can’t get in without me
|
| I’m Presidential, Obama painted the Vogues black
|
| Chopper in the Chevy, top rollin' back
|
| My life a motion picture, bitch I ain’t gotta act
|
| I send em to your section, nigga hold that
|
| It’s raining scattered bullets
|
| Too late to run for cover, I drain em like Kobe
|
| Then I evacuate to the gutter
|
| On something that’s pokey with looks
|
| And a trunk they’d like to stutter
|
| I rank as the king of the city
|
| It ain’t gon be another
|
| (Inkredible, inkredible, inkredible, inkredible…)
|
| I’m sending shots, it’s happy hour
|
| I shoot from close range, I’m a need a shower
|
| Brains in the sink, body on the counter
|
| Women and the kids, leave em how I found em
|
| I’m a real nigga, stand still nigga
|
| I’ll cut your face, have you lookin like Seal nigga
|
| Then I pull your card, then I deal with you
|
| Gamble with your life, is this your lucky night
|
| My bitch so fucking right, every night I fuck her twice
|
| Big boy money bitch, pockets on Charlie Wise
|
| Tatted up, I’m scarred for life
|
| Tell the cops I know all my rights
|
| Got choppas I don’t mean Harley bikes
|
| Drop em like a bag of ice
|
| Shades dark, flag bright
|
| Wallet chain, chrome horse
|
| Hair to the fucking back, call that shit, Rosa Parks
|
| Dr. Carter, man I gave hip-hop open heart
|
| Young Money baby aka Noah’s Ark
|
| And I’m Noah!
|
| YOUNG MULA BABY
|
| My money long, my temper short
|
| My cars foreign, my dick a boss
|
| The guns new, the beef old
|
| It’s time to come through like never before
|
| Liquid C4, look at me ho
|
| Look into my eyes do you see a C.O.
|
| I’m talking kilo’s, time to reload
|
| Map fout ou deyo — «Shut the fuck up» in Creole
|
| Bitch I’m paid up, get ya weight up
|
| Peel the top back reel the shades up
|
| I got them automatics so you know I’m automatic
|
| All my auto’s automatic you know that’s automatic
|
| What you niggas want to see
|
| Don’t get caught in the street
|
| I got G’s that’ll wait for a quarter key, nigga
|
| I’m living nigga
|
| Fuck the critics nigga (fuck em)
|
| Shit is serious nigga
|
| You hear the lyrics nigga (Yep!)
|
| It’s Ricky nigga |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Inkredible, artist - Trae Tha Truth. Album song Deep in the Heart of Texas 7, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп