lirik lagu boldy james & antt beatz - dead flowers
[intro]
(what up, antt?)
(beat gang)
where we at?
[verse 1]
burning high~grade, finna drop a five in the limeade
taj paid, walkin’ out with pints at the rite~aid
baby so cold, she can’t wait to let me slay her
let me f~ck for free, but the head so good i wanna pay her
know i’m havin’ [?] but leave a message at the dial tone
richest street n~gga that she ever laid her brows on
trillest n~gga out the drug zone, put on for the ghetto
fifteen~hundred~dollar dunks on, stompin’ foreign pedals
burberry on my collar with the light print
feds know a n~gga got a linе on them ice chips
hundred thou’ on all slips n~ggas know wе touchin’
switches on all of the sticks we be cobra~clutchin’
pipe downs for the snakes, i had to mow the yard
any n~gga take a hit on blocks, he gotta overcharge
i owe you, it’s only us, i’m really from the warren
them n~ggas know with us, this sh~t come with a thunderstorm
[chorus]
make it rain on your head, we givin’ lead showers
left him in the lane field under dead flowers
to all my n~ggas comin’ home on the furlough
it’s 227 ’til the motherf~ckin’ world blow
same n~ggas, only worse, mega~popular
worldwide mob figures, we the mafia
the same n~ggas, only worse, mega~popular
227 mafia, what else? let’s get it
[verse 2]
they pillow~talk more than these hoes, they some gossipers
long live my og rock off of rossiter
gang know i kept it truer than a full snickin’
still passin’ testers out at the soup kitchen
i got n~ggas out in [?], k!llers in the zigs
with fully outs, pop up on a n~gga like a quiz
welcome home [lo diddy?], long live eric
pinky ring, seen the cut stones ten carats
everybody thugs ’til the judge set bail
and they wakin’ up handcuffed to a bed rail
still foldin’ lotto packs and them twelve~twelves
off~white same color as an egg sh~ll
free [?] tarantino from that fed cell
had a long run, turnt your city to a trail mix
slow motion, wearin’ bass upon that handheld
got some blow stronger than them cases that the feds build
[chorus]
make it rain on your head, we givin’ lead showers
left him in the lane field under dead flowers
to all my n~ggas comin’ home on the furlough
it’s 227 ’til the motherf~ckin’ world blow
same n~ggas, only worse, mega~popular
worldwide mob figures, we the mafia
the same n~ggas, only worse, mega~popular
227 mafia, what else? let’s get it
[outro]
left him in the [?] field under dead flowers
let’s get it
(beat gang)
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