| From where it start
|
| Till the flight depart
|
| The author, the blind archer
|
| Chicks coming out of camisoles
|
| Camel-toes, ten toes I stand
|
| As opposed to surrendering
|
| And suffer on land
|
| Shorty loyal like Camille Cosby
|
| Plant chamomile, calamine lotion
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| It feel wobbly, turbulence
|
| I deplane then adjust
|
| I’m just contrasting and justifying
|
| Juxtapose, enough posing
|
| My impulse I’m playing possum
|
| Summertime time-pieces
|
| Niggas, sometimey
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| Watch em, I sip Champagne
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| And go shopping, Let’s talk shop
|
| Under chandelier’s a mere option
|
| Cop Dodsons, antique from the auction
|
| Cut Cigar caps, double gullotines, Waltzing
|
| I walk the long way home
|
| Honing in on my poems
|
| Humm a couple hymns to myself
|
| Self-worth. |
| I’m gone.
|
| I can’t condone what these niggas doin'
|
| I can’t complain either
|
| Flights out to Argentina
|
| I’ve seen enough to know enough
|
| When enough is enough
|
| You can’t block my puck
|
| I’m on the cusp with a cup
|
| Stanley. |
| This ain’t hockey
|
| But I’m ice-cold. |
| Figure-8's
|
| My Sixteens is quite bold
|
| Behold, the most excellent of word usage
|
| No discussion, only repercussion
|
| I reap the benefits, the lear lean like Robotussin
|
| Over-flustered, fluctuating like a fan-base
|
| The Black Rembrandt
|
| Branch out, sketch a landscape
|
| Rosemary on the lamb shank
|
| You niggas shaky
|
| Shaking hands, throw bands
|
| She dance to Achy Breaky
|
| Broken-hearted artist starving
|
| Out of former union
|
| Unity, you better off
|
| Watch Petunias blooming
|
| It costs more to pretend
|
| Niggas too timid
|
| Intimidating temporary plates
|
| I need motives
|
| Debating never, sipping Jameson
|
| Egyptian bitches, hieroglyphic how I script it
|
| Sculpted in the image of a menace
|
| So menacing, niggas been miniscule
|
| Scan 'em like a scute number
|
| Visioning Aquariums
|
| Jewels I’m wearing 'em
|
| Acquired taste, I’m preaching to the choir
|
| Wired to a higher place
|
| Replaced passion
|
| Complacent, not a inkling
|
| My bitches shimmy in sheer shirts
|
| Binge drinking. |
| Cashmere Curtains
|
| Earn my money early
|
| Bamboozled on stage
|
| Nigga, show your pearlies
|
| White Remy,
|
| Plenty bitches at my tight and curlys
|
| Best friends, Laverne & Shirley
|
| For sure nigga |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Hold , by - Willie the Kid. Song from the album Somewhere., in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп