Royce Da 5'9" - Son Of Greg [Rhymes & Punches] | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Royce Da 5'9"
• Son Of Greg [Rhymes & Punches]

Son of Greg, child of God
Eyes closed off cause I'm trying to decide
How to coincide with father time
Then my eyes go wide
Cause I'm trying to tightrope walk on my bottom line
Same time I'm trying to fight those thoughts
This is how a psycho talks
I'm cut like that, so why throw salt
I'll beat your ass then step on your glasses, mazel tov
It's not a threat
No it's a promise and you hoes know it's death before dishonor
Oh they sleeping on me now?
Their narcoleptic soul, this tech will blow, they whole set can go pajamas
My think tank is infested with piranhas
Everybody else's dress code is Giuseppe I guess I'll go with Yves-Saint Lauren
I'm the reason why your lady's been displaying odd behavior
She said call her later, why?
Cause I'm inside the broad head like Charles Xavier
Thoroughbred millionaire with a billionaire mind state
Flyin' down to MIA
We at KOD, you throwing singles I'm throwing Stephenson's, Lances
I call them that cause I blow em' in Bron's face
Then leave them on the dancers
Wait til' the lights come on, wave to a light come on
Then leave and go to mansions
But I'ma leave the rich nigga talk to those who put faith in the dollar and hold little grudges
And I'ma move on and blow bigger budgets
Talking in cold while thinking I'm cold, hoes really love it
My old soul trying not to be the sober nigga judging
In retrospect I was a different beast
I switched the wine a few different times trying to slow down like "Let me sip and see"
Thats not sobriety, thats a called a problem
Thats like being inside a car that caught on fire and all you do is switch your seat
And this is me, take me as I am
Or leave me as you saw me where you liked me last
Believe me that i'm sorry that your sorry ass can't comprehend these bars
Through all these new cars and this viking mask
This is the memory of the 20 year old version of me like my wifey's past
The big fish in the small pond forever trying to calm down my big brothers pisces ass
Telling me about these niggas talking about me and how come I bite my tongue
I said "Bro these niggas is weak to me"
I rather let them do all their wrong in the dark then have to right my sun
Write my son, that shit is deep to me
Often with writing I be in awe when my thoughts are composed while laying song
If I never would of took that first drink I probably would be playing the Game of Thrones
With Marshall and Hov but this ain't no HBO season this is take your ho season
In order to cheat death you gotta either respect me, friend me, or pray for your beating if theres tension between us
And I sense that I'm swinging, I don't wait for no reason, I was raised by Cool J, Cube and Jesus
You was raised by new shades, Fuse, and a pair of shoes made by yeezus
Now beat it before I serve you immorally
I'll show you that theres no correlation between murder and maturity
I'm the Son of Greg, the child of God

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