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taco hemingway - halle berry كلمات الأغنية

verse 1:
young hems is the name, you see
i flow vicious and chaotic like your veins on speed
i’m like your brain on e, acid, cocaine and weed;
cl-ssy, mundane, indeed. i got a couple personalities so stay with me
if you’re not liking what you’re hearing i can change the scheme
and i can change the beat, like:
my girl pretty, my grades average
saying: f-ck the city, cause i am a savage
cutting bruises in my brain so i get the smartness
but i went too far, man, just get the bandage
i need booze. a few sips help the sadness
switch quicker than the motherf-cking trends in paris
i’m both the agent harrises and the tony sopranoses
cue a rap g*nius nerd with some boring -n-lysis
i’m the gangeses and red wines flowing in palaces
i’m the millionth rapper saying how f-cking evil and bad he is

chorus:
that’s boring
claiming you’re a f-cking demon? (that’s boring.)
saying you spray chicks with s-m-n? (that’s boring.)
crying we should respect the females? (so boring.)
bragging ’bout your car and your nine?
complaining about rapping ’bout dimes?
rap purists go back to ’95, go see pac touring and go suck on his crack pipe

verse 2:
i see. you f-ckers are feisty
cause i’m on my ricky ross, you’re mad cause i’m icy
i wanna calm the f-ck down, and light up a nice tree
but my own mind is going against me, like why me?
i guess i’m the rap game’s balotelli
all these big black tobiases? i call’em nelly
got halle b sucking my d, don’t swallow, berry-
my seed’s precious. if you do it i am carving your belly
all i do is f-cking rap, and i’m not charging a penny
you say you got bars, true, but it’s not many
i f-ck your clique up, stab carl, rob lenny
then sip a duff, watch some f-cking scrubs on the telly
i spit that red hot fat fire bronsonelli
sl!ck white boy look, tommy carcetti
but i got the omar brain, plus i got the pollack flame
priest robak shame, really sonny you are not ready
shots heavy. it’s friday, i’m on my sobotka
old polish f-ck, chugging beers, eating a babka
then i’m cruising ’round the city with a bottle of vodka
and a pretty young doll, but i’m calling her lalka
like i’m motherf-cking prus, but my mózg is kafka
and my music is red fuzzy, too, i’m rothko
cigarettes – i’m off those, i’m swimming in booze
i ain’t got sh-t to lose, so i’m boasting i got flows

chorus:
comparing your flows to rivers? (that’s boring.)
love songs, like “her hips quiver”? (that’s boring)
still rhyming the words “n-gga” and “trigger”? (that’s boring)
bragging ’bout your bling and look?
shallow melodies on every hook?
rap purists go back to ’96, go compete with lil’ kim over rights to frank’s d-ck

outro:
pac, big l, biggie
proof, big pun, eazy
pimp c, odb
x2
that’s boring

- taco hemingway

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