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grouch - breath كلمات الأغنية

(feat. ricky d, poppy, trae, u-neek, scooby, paul wall, y)

[talking]
yeah, you b-tch -ss n-gg-z can’t breathe huh
we taking all, after marks mayn
it’s the mista-mista, in your motherf-cking face
repping this dub, s-l-a-b
and the motherf-cking a.b.n
putting it in your back, you back stabbing b-tches
yeah, so try and breathe motherf-ckers

[hook x2]
you n-gg-z won’t breathe, if my n-gg-z don’t eat
we can take it to the streets, if you n-gg-z want beef
my n-gg-z don’t sleep, my n-gg-z gon ride
and y’all n-gg-z gon die, if you really wanna try

[poppy]
for seven years i’ve been running this race, running in place
through suffering hate, struggling waiting for something to shake
and it’s nothing to the bay, as far as talent’s concerned
haven’t you heard, we known to this mental law challengers
you been testing my patience, now i’ma challenge yours
look at my bloodline, b-tch i’m known to damage curves
check out my pedigree, this is what i was bread to be
f-ck being celebrities, just give me the feddy please
i’m bout that getty-green, and getting it by any means
scoob, ‘nique and pop mayn that grit boy trinity
it’s no hope for you b-tch n-gg-z, surrender please
trae, hit ’em with that semi-automatic symphony

[trae]
it’s mandatory, these n-gg-z on the verge of a temper-tantrum
cause i ran inside this b-tch, and skeeted out with another anthem
raw ain’t it, i let these n-gg-z breathe for a minute
but now slow loud and bangin’ back, and we gon fight to the finish
f-ck a script see i’ma blitz, and stick you hoes where you standing at
don’t know the terror squad, but i’m gon have you hoes leaning back
now breathe, you b-tches got me sick to the stomach
and all this speaking with your hands, gon get you six to the stomach
gutter related with the grit, so now the fan finna get ya
ain’t it no way we gon let up hope, everyone of ’em hit ya
now walk with that, busted up -ss old industry n-gg-
and i’m a -sshole, ain’t no way to finish me n-gg-

[hook x2]

[unique]
it’s all trill for real, i’m so hood
same spot same corner, it’s all good
i got haters, so you might as well take a number
it’s fakers everywhere, and i can’t let ’em take me under
that’s why, it’s only wonder
how to bring the heat like the summer, keep reaching from us to us
yeah, i’m smoother than a 75
lincoln with the suicide do’s, b-tch you ain’t know
we spit vivid flows, spit it how we live it bro
and i don’t really think, you get the picture though
i let my figgas grow, russell simmons mindframe
but you’ll get rushed with the semi’s, f-ck with mine mayn

[scooby]
the block in me, built for a sky to read
had a lot of fake partnas, but not unique
plus poppy got my back, trae asking where they at
then he call up s.l.a.b., them go get the gats
if you f-ck with me, you can get touched quickly
if you ain’t know by now, n-gg- we run the city
it’s mo’, than the music fool
you can end up, on the motherf-cking news at noon dude
you think you bishop on the juice, mayn you not him
n-gg-z gon catch you, and really put your b-tt at brim
and the clouds all that loud talk, you can get fouled out of the game
knock your -ss down, like a sample of caine mayn

[hook x2]

[paul wall]
everytime i turn around, i hear somebody hating
but i’m patiently making moves, bringing home the bacon
i came up in the game, slowly but surely
built my reputation up, to make the whole world know me
people turned they back on me, but i can’t fall off
a couple friends came and went, but i just counted a loss
i got the heart of a lion, and the mind of einstein
steady climbing the ladder, in the mix on the grind
i’m in the game, making chess moves
i refuse to fail i might not win, but i sho won’t lose
i gotta get it, while it’s here for the taking
but it’s too many people in my path faking, but i ain’t tripping

[talking]
breathe motherf-cker, what you n-gg-z get
for running round this b-tch, getting big headed
like we wasn’t gon cause h-ll, on these streets n-gg-
we been out here, it go down like that
slow loud and bangin’, feel what i’m saying
always affiliated with the streets, 3-2 what’s up baby
s.u.c., slow loud and bangin’
-ssholes by motherf-cking nature, that’s what it is yeah

- grouch

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