lirik lagu angelo mota – jersey/mexico
[intro]
[verse one: angelo mota]
we don’t have anything in common
even my atoms are unique, and you should be embarr-ssed that your last tape made me vomit
i’m bad as michael, p-ssed the eiffel on my travel up
following my steps would take some m-ssive guts, back when
backpacking was what my rapping was, now it happens to get these
b-st-rds right back to backing up, 40’s and ashing blunts
face was ashen and mad as f-ck, the higher being’s
the only one that can see me so i go laughing and smack a judge (judging my past and such)
only absent from cl-sses once, asking for bathroom p-sses after i grab my stuff (woo!)
as a freshman, i always was eating breakfast
now to present time and angelo’s barely eating his lunch (d-mn)
crazy sh-t, i carried spliffs so my friends would see me a bit
now cigarettes i’m tryna’ quit
momma’ told me nicorette was for a b-tch
so like turkey and my soul, i’m probably gon’ quit it cold
spit’s like getting a cold, you sniff and cough and you moan, but
getting over the symptoms made me dope as whole syringes, please
quote my manifesto, cause now i’m getting forgetful
90’s baby, missed the retro by a decade and some change
all my friends are all estranged, but i’m over it, plus
it’s not like anybody changed, it was like that from the get-go
[hook]
i shot from the hip like plaxico
k!lled the rap game, took the first bus to mexico
(tu sabes)
[verse two: angelo mota]
i’m the rap slayer, better pull your pant legs way up
realization of schwarzenegger running for mayor
i know that i could run it soon, i’d probably do it better so
why be a sheep when i can f-cking k!ll a shepherd?
(whatever)
i see your subtle diss tracks, i’ll let it rock, but
now verbal missiles burning holes through your leather
cause sure you got the quip that could get a throat to slit
but switchblades ain’t sh-t when compared to beretta’s
holy ghost, to me, is colder than november
but believe, ang is really dry ice in december
i bet the foo’s fighting is pretenders
and if you don’t get that, well then, get your head up
7-up, ain’t no use for a heckler
cause the splitting pain that i’m bringing to your ears is secular
tell these sickle cells to step it up, whipping with the best of
people from the west of, orange if you aren’t then you
probably shouldn’t flex bruh, turn your sh-t the color ketchup
never stand next to us
(reckless!)
[outro: angelo mota]
the cop’s gon’ catch me anyway, so i run it from mexico to jersey
you heard me?
the cop’s gon’ catch me anyway, so i take my reckless sh-t right back to jersey
you heard me?
jersey to mexico
[good life]
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