Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tranzform, artist - U-God. Date of issue: 16.02.2015
Song language: English
Tranzform |
| Have you seen your friends turn to snakes |
| Then transform into rats |
| While running through the jungle |
| I can tell you all bout that |
| Let’s get this straight, I’m way above all this hate |
| I’m in my lane, I’m circling with no breaks |
| And no blinkers, my team still running, gunning |
| Still hungry, you think that you can sink us, think us |
| Windex clean, no way I’m gonna see the clinker |
| And if I’m dirty, you think that you can link us, think of |
| Another format, informant, I’m not your doormat |
| I hear clicking on my phone jack, no call backs |
| The phone zap, matter fact, yo, I know it’s taped |
| Matter fact, didn’t you just catch a case |
| You in my face, acting like you high as fuck |
| Gucci belt, showing out, man, you wired up |
| Let’s tie this up, the God got to live this out |
| I’m in the rut, but my gut’s never giving out |
| I’m in the moment, staring at the hear and now |
| Can’t tear me down, I’m living like a righteous child |
| I had these thoughts, knew I had to write them down |
| No sun rays, I live this shit underground |
| The devil’s back, he’s mad at my lifestyle |
| Handle my hardware, always had to earn my keep |
| Money and friendship, always had to turn the beef |
| Behind my back, you should of had your words with me |
| But talk is cheap, acting like you own the streets |
| You wan’t beef, but all I’m doing is trynna eat |
| But we was mans, plans, million dollar scams |
| Now June 24th, you lying on the fucking stand |
| The judge slammed the hammer, and grand jury glamour |
| Now it’s club fed education in the Alabama |
| I ask myself, should I put down the hammer |
| These blood sucking vampires always coming atcha |
| Leechers on my back, bottom feeders, body snatchers |
| Savages, in pursuit of happiness |
| My wife want half of this, oh, she’s trynna jam me up |
| You won’t get half of this, sorry, dear, no tummy tuck |
| I ask myself, for the fame, for the bucks |
| Now ask myself man, aww, she’s just star struck |
| I tricked on Timbs, had flicks of her |
| My best man creeping on the Western, spotted in the west end |