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the jacka & berner - prize winners كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1: the jacka]
in the benz with a felon, ridin’ around with a ruger out
have your -ss on one leg, like a pelican coolin’ out
f-cking off bands, thumbin’ through a hunnid count
the day you try rob me, turn your crib to a haunted house
really in the streets, this can’t be beef the way you run your mouth
hit you in your kidney, move to sydney with my patna (?)
paper gave me style, not my pal, then you won’t be saved
i’m from k!lla cal, sell brown to get on a wave
free that boy max-b, nutty-b from the cage
thuggin’ for my uk n-ggas tryna score a raise
knocked some rich b-tches but i stepped when i saw they ways
probably (?) cause its mothers day
she let her boy harvest when i couldn’t hold my weight
now we moving catch me in a tube and on a wake
(?) makin’ stairs we ain’t have a break
spaz then we clashed like i’m slidin’ on a home plate

[hook: freeway]
always bring the trophy home we are prize winners
real n-gga you can see it in my eyes n-gga
live forever we still alive when we die
just a kid from the ghetto i swear to god we the mob yeah
always bring the trophy home we are prize winners
drug dealer move a quarter key with my n-gga
live forever we still alive when we die
squeeze the biscuit together i swear to god we the mob n-gga

[verse 2: berner]
prices on my head i pray their pistols will jam
overnight 20 won’t sleep till they land
light depths got me feeling like i’m the man
2015 gave the windows a tint
bubble gum cookies someone give me a xan
mix it with the gin, i might black out again
pretty long hair but she stupid as h-ll
when i drop em & stop callin’ then they usually fail
got this for your girl, yeah her p-ssy will sell
she stick a finger in the bag and hit the bump with her nail
been around the world no one flyer than me
they don’t keep good work or prices like me
.40 on my lap when i pull up with jack
we in the ak for a week just movin’ the pack
freeze & ampichino man that’s really my fam
young bossi and cl-ssy he just got out the can

[hook]

[verse 3: freeway]
mob sh-t, toxic
we known drug dealers that love b-tches that slide d-ck
moved plenty nicks then i moved to the sticks
grab that nice whip cause flippin’ yayo was my vice grip
keep the heater black, four-fever got a nice grip
run like cheetah ‘fore you meet up with my heater
i got freaky with your senorita
no i’m not an officer but i beat her with the night stick
life ain’t promised but death is
my cousin (?) & my ahki jack are a few n-ggas that i miss
grinding as far as the rest start reclining
and we use to grab bricks on consignment
yall simple, i’m like simon i’m the ply man
and my ahki’s in akron ohio know how to find ’em
they the defense, i’m the offensive line man
ya’ll (?) we are lions

[hook]

- the jacka berner

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