джей - анкор | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• джей
• анкор

Can I get an encore, do you want more
Cookin raw with the Brooklyn boy
So for one last time I need y'all to roar

Who you know fresher than Hov'? Riddle me that
The rest of y'all know where I'm lyrically at
Can't none of y'all mirror me back
Yeah hearin me rap is like hearin G. Rap in his prime
I'm, young H.O., rap's Grateful Dead
Back to take over the globe, now break bread
I'm in, Boeing jets, Global Express
Out the country but the blueberry still connect
On the low but the yacht got a triple deck
But when you Young, what the fuck you expect? Yep, yep
Grand openin, grand closin
God your man Hov' cracked the can open again
Who you gon' find doper than him with no pen
just draw off inspiration
Soon you gon' see you can't replace him
with cheap imitations for DESE GENERATIONS

You were not to blame for
Because we separate
it ripples our reflections

Look what you made me do, look what I made for you
Knew if I paid my dues, how will they pay you
When you first come in the game, they try to play you
Then you drop a couple of hits, look how they wave to you
From Marcy to Madison Square
To the only thing that matters in just a matter of years (yea)
As fate would have it, Jay's status appears
to be at an all-time high, perfect time to say goodbye
When I come back like Jordan, wearin the 4-5
It ain't to play games witchu
It's to aim at you, probably maim you
If I owe you I'm blowin you to smithereeens
Cocksucker take one for your team
And I need you to remember one thing (one thing)
I came, I saw, I conquered
From record sales, to sold out concerts
So muh'fucker if you want this encore
I need you to scream, 'til your lungs get sore

You were not to blame for
Because we separate
it ripples our reflections

So this here is the victory lap
Then I'm lea-vin, that's how you get me back
After a year of them 16's, it's one point two
And that's two point four, and I'm only doin two
You wanted to gain attention new dudes
I can get you BET and TRL too
You wanna be in the public, send your budget
Well fuck it, I ain't budgin!
Young did it to death, you gotta love it
Record companies told me I couldn't cut it
Now look at me, all star-studded
Golfer above par like I putted
All cause the shit I uttered, was utterly ridiculous
How sick is this?
You want to bang, send Kanye change, send Just some dust
Send Hip a grip, then you got' spit
A little somethin like this, WOO!

джей еще тексты