lirik lagu boldy james – they vouching
[verse 1]
i be pushin’ heavy machinery through conway, mississippi
pop ace at the [?], but you know my [?] breakin’ through brickies
grittin’ in the trenches; let me know that sh~t done when you finished
critical condition ~ i done left my victims in intensive
when it’s risky business, just another one~way trip to venice
was gone for too long, left all of the raw~heads dope sick
american flag mag, all~red four~fifth
blue tips in the clip on some baldhead hoe sh~t
ferocious; all praise to the host with the most~est
who smugglе loads through the postage?
don’t overdosе on the dosage
[?]; i make the blow do aerobics
the flow’s sick like strep throat mixed with pneumonia and covid
in high demand; back by popular vote i was goated
it’s game time, but don’t need no remote control to control it
[?] i’d dare to say forever
had three shootouts out on bond, i d~mn near violated tether
let’s get it
[chorus]
they plottin’; i’ll red dot ‘im
spot ‘im, got ‘im
let’s k!ll him; no problem
who shot ya? the robbers
and k!llers, they vouchin’
my hitters, they bouncin’ out with choppers
’nuff power in prison to move a mountain
the robbers, k!llers, and shooters, they vouchin’
[verse 2]
wide shut, sh~t that i done seen’ll leave your eyes bugged
man down, [?] my ak with my side tucked
high as f~ck, pockets in my skinnys, you know mines stuffed
your time in that coffin gon’ be way longer than that nine months
hundred~k the long way, fifty~thou’ tied up
fourties in my lincoln match these pointers in my ice buffs
slappin’ all these bowls of the vezzo got me iced up
seven~hundred grams in a empty box of rice puffs
baking soda mixin’, bojay asked me, “what’s that white stuff?”
caked up on the side of my ‘rex, look like some pie crust
why must i be like that? how much i bleed the trap
don’t chase the cat, i’ll tame the dog, then let ’em eat the scr~ps
n~ggas caught me at the airport, thought it was checkmate
a walkin’ lotto ticket: rob me, you hit the sweepstakes
brutus “the barber” beefcake; we play for keepsakes
was fresh out of the ‘spital, quarter~milli’ in my neck brace
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- lirik lagu dawamafia, random & mody – habitué
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