lirik lagu deë 2094 – from the bleachers
[(verse 1) lé momo]:
why the hate gotta be so low
all these b~tches still hating momo
man i just don’t give a f~ck no more
i’m just gon’ carry on showing off
all you haters are really so slow
i’ve been working on my grind solo
i’ve been working on my grind for long
i’ll lead the game y’all practice so long
don’t make me mad coz i’ll really just go off
i’ll pull out my stinger, sting you dead and runoff
haters stay mad coz i’m constantly one up
they hate from the back while i’m leading by one up
fight with your fist don’t be pulling no gun out
they always a mess they my children my nana
clean up your act you’re parading the gutter
locked up with facts, i got bars i can’t run out
i’m juicy i’m s~x n~ggas cry for my nana
saying who next give them numbers like runners
the hard ones, the bummers none of you can sum up
don’t speak to me till i speak to you shut up
y’all n~ggas ain’t sh~t compared to my stunner
y’all ain’t got sh~t but small d~cks and nada
can’t live with the drama so head out in peace
n~ggas don’t know when to leave!
[(chorus) augustchild]:
n~ggas hatin’ from the bleachers
all that sh~t don’t even reach us
we be comin’ through the speaker
body n~ggas like the reefer
these n~ggas hatin’ from the bleachers
all that sh~t don’t even reach us
piff be comin’ through the speaker
smoke a n~gga like some reefer… woah!
[(verse 2) deë 2094]:
these n~ggas hating from the bleachers
but i be coming through the speakers
i’m hypothermic with ice game
the cold shoulder make ’em shiver
umuphapha lan’ uthol’ impam’
umuphanda lan’ uthol’ isak’
zinja zam zihlale zigcwele istrad
k~mabhilid’ ase~afrika
trust the shooter, finna grab the trigger
run up on a n~gga, make him say what he said
maw’ngabuka, n~ggas rather beef up
than to meet up, speak up, n~ggas rather be dead
so you and your n~ggas can f~ck off
k!lling this sh~t and i runoff
you and your n~ggas get cut off
f~ck one of ya n~ggas, i k!ll all of em
coz the opposition and the competition
can get caught up, beaten by the pen i’m scriptin’
compositions make ’em reposition
i’m proper spittin’ and they out’ea b~tchin’
i come and k!ll em, get my recognition
so i k!ll these n~ggas make an exhibition
call all your friends out to come and see me
malumedee finna make a k!lling…
[(chorus) augustchild]:
n~ggas hatin’ from the bleachers
all that sh~t don’t even reach us
we be comin’ through the speakers
roll these n~ggas like the reefer
n~ggas hatin’ from the bleachers
all that sh~t don’t even reach us
piff be comin’ through the speakers
smoke a n~gga like some reefer
[(outro) augustchild]:
i got malume, lé momo and me
we keep it litty, we outta your league
i sip me some lean, i murder the beat
this sh~t is so easy, i’m outta your league!
you john doe~ass~lookin’~motherf~cker!
don’t n0body like you!
yo momma don’t even like you!
you bum~ass, broke ass muhf~cker!
(haaibo iphelile phel’ ingoma)
skrrr!
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