artists: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

young chris – no pity كلمات اغاني

[chorus: modesty lycan]
when it comes my time
will the heavens know my name, or will they run and hide?
(?)
or will they understand?
i’m just trying to be the man

[verse 1: young chris]
5th gear, i push it to the needle
dope boy, they push it through the needle
hustle out of the regal like it’s legal
the love of the root of evil
gotta bring back the structure, these suckers’ll fool the people
as i pull the diesel, take a swig of tequila
mac milly too big to conceal her
one room apartments, dreams of a villa
broke down the palace, with dreams at the dealer
keep it jungle with gorillas, the streets lit up like thriller
smoking on that reggie, they shooting sh-t up like miller
young n-gg- with a trapsoul; bryson tiller
had to pay the price of death, (?) life of k!llers
living out the bando, i ain’t been out there with babe
same clothes for days, i ain’t been in the (?)
b-tch, i’m chasing a bag, i ain’t minimum wage
we just dodging the cage, dodging an early grave
i pray to god that i don’t make it to the front of that page
got dreams, i’m trying to make it to the front of that stage
and perform, that’s on my momma
everyday i get going to put on, not letting up once i get my foot on
i fell back and let it stack while ya’ll n-gg-s’ drawn
crack of dawn, selling crack while ya’ll n-gg-s’ yawn
bad b-tches with pill addictions, sipping slow like peno
once they pop, can’t stop like pringle, appet-te like oschino
fish-scale, cook well, who looking for nemo?
for the love of deniro, crack your heads to casino
blood draw so for sure, i’m taking it personal
retaliation n-gg-, death to your sons, i merc you
call the coroner, tell them we got a m-ssacre
making it hotter than africa, -ss-ssinating her character
blasting your cane, cousin harold, your driver and p-ssenger
more bodies to ashes, or pallbearers to bury you
bring your heat out the cold n-gg-
while jungle, sn-tch your heart out of your soul n-gg-
tell them b-st-rds that we handing out caskets, b-tch -sses
ball players getting taxed, we robbing their rich -sses
ain’t no love in the heart of the city, it’s gritty
bottles of blood, white chalk, for the love of the icky
even some of my darkest nights when i’m under the gun
i shine bright like i’m under the sun
in love with the industry, i’m right back to give it 1 more run
it’s time to make a better future for my unborn son
i’ma teacher, can’t make you think
i could lead you the well but can’t make you drink
i can show you the way, can’t take you every time
i can show you the hustle, can’t make you every dime
it’s all apart of the grind, young
but i can’t make up your mind young
it’s your decision and your vision, read the signs young

[chorus: modesty lycan]
when it comes my time
will the heavens know my name, or will they run and hide?
(?)
or will they understand?
i’m just trying to be the man

/ young chris