● Run Industry ● - Palm Trees | Текст песни

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• ● Run Industry ●
• Palm Trees

[Hook: Meech] (x2)
So much grams, unzip the bag
Dip in my hand
Then I palm trees
So when you throw shade, it could never harm me x2

[Verse 1: Meech]
Lions don’t lose sleep over the opinion of sheep
On the road to the riches, money sticking to my cleats
I am moi, magnifique, skin noir, Darky Meech
Niggas with the most opinions, usually have the least
It's funny how now rappers be on the druggy shit
Downloaded my tape, sat back, studied shit
Acid pack a hundred hits, shrooms, caps and hash bricks
Trippy like that Destiny Child shit, on 106
This white bitch, had the fucking nerves to call me a nigga
When she the one paying the surgeon for her lips to get bigger
Do you get the bigger picture, shit is backwards my nigga
You sneak dissing, taking jabs, get your boxing on
Cause you ain't get the word, I'm Glock Lesnar in the octagon
This shit is straight absurd
Do not hate me cause your life is shitty
I show no pity you turd, you better off in the dirt, naw
Now you better off dead, like the title of my work (mumbling)

[Hook: Meech]

[Verse 2: Juice]
Everyday, me and Mary Jane
You might say I'm addicted but me, I'm truly lifted
Stoned so loud, you can hear me in the crowd
Smoking girl scout, sour by the ounce
Mary never cheat me
Mary not a backstabbing bitch that'll lie and deceive me
Spread it even! (even)
Hash wax in the evening
Dab, or die trying, on the road to Zion
Damn, they try and stick me for my paper
They tryn'na take me under, I've seen it through the vapors
Jealous ones still envy, got a couple real with me
And my bitch, will talk some shit and smoke the kill with me
Meech will hide the body, enough of that tho'
They sayin' talk is cheap, so I'll be smiling when we meet
They screamin' \"Zombies!\" out in England
But I'm on the block with Mary, pushing and dreaming
Ah ah ah, I'm feeling myself
Thizzle, fo' shizzle my nizzle spittin' riddles on instrumentals
Trippy life, blotter in the night
Fill my appetite (Fill my appetite?)

[Hook: Meech]

[Verse 3: Erick Arc Elliot]
Could be your mans, or be your fan, or be your kin
Pay your dues, Man I gotta choose, whether I lose or win this for a friend
Can't determine the difference
The instance they see you peaking, they pussy be leaking fluid
My nigga, what is you doing, all black in the back of a Buick
I'm proving I'm sadistic and sinning as I'm making murderous music
We don't rep the same things, nah, don't bother confuse it
So much stressing on my brain, momma think I'mma lose it
Human vagabond, hoes that stow they panties in my carry on
Why you hating niggas acting nonchalant
Honest bruh, fuck your publication that say I'm a third wheel
Aritecht blow your mind, set stress but won't swell
Oh yes, I smoke kill, I'm crack, you smoke krills
I pack, you dope deal, in fact, I'm so chill
I'm never off the pivot, six stitches to your image
Not offended, when you call me genius
All that means is…

[Hook: Meech]

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