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anilyst - wildfire lyrics
[intro]
yeah..
you know we got the wine gl-sses poured out and sh-t, right?
check me out, though
[verse 1: anilyst]
she rolled through range on black
so cool with the b-ss on blast
the way that tattoo stains your back
shake that -ss
move, make your racks
ain’t you past due to pay your tax
i don’t g-g-gotta work harder to pay y’all that
girl, i got it hard as a baseball bat
give it to you raw
could you take all that?
i-i-i just wanna make bucks, gain more cash
i can tell these lame f-cks ain’t gone last
tell ’em all to wake up
ain’t no chance
if you’re thinkin’ you can make it with the same old trash
i ain’t gone speak
i’ll resist the urges
callin’ you weak cause your sh-t be worthless
falling asleep when you spit your verses
make it harder to breathe
so your b-tch be nervous
mellow while pickin’ the weapon to grip
incredible spittin’ impeccable sh-t
tell a ho “h-llo, come get on this d-ck”
get a gold medal for messin’ with chicks (messin’ with chicks)
in the mood to write a song
never cared about if i’ve used her right or wrong
dude’s just rhymin’ on, new phenomenon
f-ck a chain, i don’t move with diamonds on
i don’t ask for my wrist to glisten
i just want the m-sses of chicks to listen
so i can get some -ss and some t-ts to dip in
i just wanna smash, we can skip the kissin’ (yeah..)
baby pop it and drop it
tip me for days, i should drop a deposit
shawty got thighs that’ll wobble and walk in
makin’ yo eyes wanna pop out their sockets
look… (x8)
[hook: anilyst] x2
my mind’s up and it’s soarin’
five cups of that foreign
fly as f-ck in my jordans
all these dimes love my recordings
i light enough to start a wildfire (x4)
[verse 2: anilyst]
got a need for increasing my pay rate
when you’re deep in your sleep, i’ma stay awake
speak to the streets in a major way
i’m a beast how i beat on these 808’s
he’s been a g since the cradle days
preaching while he’s got his finger raised
plead to your knees
make you pray for days
bleed ’till you’re reaching your fatal case
he’s been the type that’ll hype five critics
sneak in your beemer and side swipe in it
weed looking greener than popeye’s spinach
read the demeanor of white hype with it
so, bro be cautious
choking you, hoping you won’t be conscious
got homies and ogs to hold you hostage
my roadies and broadies be so obnoxious (what…?)
homie hit the deck
looking for anyone’s splittin’ a check
slippin’ your disc while i twist your neck
gon’ keep giving it kicks till it disconnects
your b-tch is insisting i kiss her neck
addicted, expressing an indirect
digging my d-ck in my intellect
she be sending me pics through the internet
i’ma rise to the top, never try to doubt me
you ain’t able to stop me or not allow me
face full of shots if you talk around me
got a stage full of bops that’ll flock around me
doper than that i’ve never tried to floss
known as the guy that’s the rhyming boss
i’m over and high b-tch, i’m signing off
(i’m over and high b-tch, i’m signing off…)
[hook]
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