با داستان، مضمون و حس این آهنگ بیشتر آشنا شوید.
A.T.L., what's up, shawty? | N.Y.C., yo-yo-yo, kid | D-Town, what up doe?
A.T.L., what's up, shawty? N.Y.C., yo-yo-yo, kid D-Town, what up doe? Toni Standin' on the speaker, tall as Burj Khalifa Powder on the plate'll turn your girl into Eureka Remember, if I don't see it, then I don't believe ya I done done some pretty dumb things on the tequila Birthday in Vegas, layin' with my weezy Asked about her friends, she like, "Boy, I don't believe ya" I'm just tryna live and they turned it to evil My partner is a Crip, the only thing he eat is seafood School of hard knocks, I can fuck around and teach you (uh) License to kill and I just got 'em renewed (uh) Spoke to Def Jam and they talkin' 'bout a renote Spoke to Ghazi and he can pay me in crypto (yeah) Bored Ape Yacht Club, yeah, I'm Ricky Steamboat And you know my vibe, I'm mixin' mine with the pinot I say scratch that, go on and bring it back like Preemo I say scratch that, go on and bring it back like Preemo You know my set, I'm throwin' dollar signs I lick her neck and turn the body to a water slide I'm in the bottom of my bag like some hot fries Toni, Toni, Toni, Toni, Toni, that my top five, shit Now watch me swag on this beat Enough to make Rakim proud of me You got my math and your bitch ass post somethin' negative You coulda called me I'm from the dark side, but the whip lightskin I do what I wanna do like white men I hit you in the fuckin' head with the mic stand I fuck my girl in the daytime on a nightstand You ain't know that, did ya? Real recognize real and you don't look familiar I'm from Riverdale Road, we ain't got no river Got the pole concealed behind the partition, listen A trap nigga, I perform at bar mitzvah A trap nigga, I perform at the Crystals I ain't gon' fight, but I still tote pistols Ain't gon' kill ya, all I got to do is whistle Damn, I think my whistle off (off) They've been plagiarisin', they've been stealin' sauce (sauce) Soon as I see 'em, I'ma pick 'em off I got a beard, but I must ask Ricky Ross (huh?) God took his time with me Kingpins wanna sign with me Gunshots is truly Atlanta While things are goin' left like Julius Randle I got this shit lit, no need for a candle Just like Kyrie, I got this shit handled (yeah) Just like Kyrie, I got this shit handled (ayo) Walkin' around your party, like where the party at? (yo, where the party at?) Yeah, Bacardi and 'Gnac could lead to a cardiac But I'm drunk and I give a fuck, like how Cardi act (Cardi) I'm already back, I just had to run to my car to yack Headache, an Aleve, I'ma need eight of 'em (whoa) For Pete's sake, I've been steppin' on leaf rakes again (ow) I keep wakin' up in the bed with complete strangers (the fuck are you?) And I eat prazosin, get more chicks than Pete Davidson (whoa) Man, I can't help it, I'm me (no), I got the devil in me (yup) Let me put it more delicately (here) Fuck your feelings, I'm a felon, pussy, you're jealous of me Prolly 'cause my cerebellum's a parabellum, pussy Even if I swear to celibacy, I'd still be like a female that's hooking (why?) Ain't shit you can do to stop me from sellin', pussy (oh) Yeah, warped mind, your rhymes Are so fuckin' washed up, I call 'em shorelines (woo) But as long as a nine-year-old's mind is washable I'ma search 'til I find the most awfullest line as possible (yeah) Mind is off, all I need is a small little pint of vodka To be talked into tryna walk up inside of a Shriner's hospital and- They're tryna make Marshall the guy responsible (for what?) For little Joshua's giant arsenal Like I'm also the reason his .9 is cocked and he brought his tool And decides to hide it inside of his locker 'til the next time he's picked on at school But you're out of your gourd if you're thinkin' that I ain't killin' this beat I'm not even forcin' myself to vomit, but if I had a fuckin' eating disorder Or anorexia, believe me, I couldn't body this more for ya (yeah) Man, I'm beyond childish (bitch) When I'm on Valiums (yeah), just like mom downs 'em They call it Munchausen (why?) 'Cause she hands me some (here) Then says, "C'mon, chow, son (Chow, son) These are non-drowsin' (uh?) I mean non-drowsy (Right), but they'll help you calm down some" So, before I zonk out, I'm tryna make Rob proud I'm hopin' this song riles him I pop like nine thousand, I'm outtie, five-thousand (oh) Hold up (one more thing) Spit syllables on the mic in the booth Like I'm at Drew's, even if I win or lose I'm in the news, even my interviews (yeah) Get like five million views, I get accused Of misogyny because I will massage any bitch just like a masseuse Mixin' NyQuil and booze, Heineken brews Hide 'em inside of my shoes, ah (Psych, what the fuck?) I'm just playin' (fuckin' mumble rap)
هنوز آهنگ مشابهی نیست.
