Static - FORBITHEN: letras de canções, vídeos de música e concertos

Static

Hip-Hop/Rap

Static foi lançado em 21 de novembro de 2025 por Forbithen Records como parte do álbum Orbit 26

Detalhes da canção

Data de lançamento21 de novembro de 2025

EditoraForbithen Records

IdiomaEnglish

Melodicidade

Acústica

Valência

Dançabilidade

Energia

BPM99

DESCRIÇÃO GERAL

LETRA

Letra

Concentration

She want fame but can't even name one winner

Talk 'bout smoke, but they all got filtered

We been outside, no pics, no Insta

If bro let fly, then they won't find prints, no fingers

(Shh, shh)

Still got cash in the bag, no splinters

I might slide through just to check that fixture

And if I go broke, I'll flip that script, no fiction

Back to the field, no ref, no whistle (brr)

I don't need love, I need profit margins

Ten toes deep, no peace, just bargains

She want a trip, I told her"Target"

I move silent, they talk like parrots

(Chat, chat)

Cold heart, still froze in the summer

Whole team eat, no scraps, no hunger

Don't talk war if your block ain't thunder

We pull strings, no chords, no drummer

Bro just built up somethin' exotic

Weight so clean, they think we robotic

If cops show up, we switch to logic

Mask on tight, no face, no topic

She want fame but can't even name one winner

Talk 'bout smoke, but they all got filtered

We been outside, no pics, no Insta

If bro let fly, then they won't find prints, no fingers

(Shh, shh)

Still got cash in the bag, no splinters

I might slide through just to check that fixture

And if I go broke, I'll flip that script, no fiction

Back to the field, no ref, no whistle (brr)

Still in the zone, no need for a caption

Money in motion, I'm built for the action

Heard man talk, but it's pure distraction

We don't do words, we just show reaction

Ain't got time for a fake man's lecture

Move like chess, protect my sector

If she don't match my vibe, I'll dead her

I'm cold, can't thaw, no matter the weather

Brrr-o hit once, then he ghosted quicker

Whole scene froze, no post, no picture

We don't do hints, we send that whisper

Whole gang tight like locks and scissors

(Clink)

No signal, still we transmit

Talk too much, get lost in static

Bro got weight, no gym, just balance

And I stay lowkey, still cause damage

She want fame but can't even name one winner

Talk 'bout smoke, but they all got filtered

We been outside, no pics, no Insta

If bro let fly, then they won't find prints, no fingers

(Shh, shh)

Still got cash in the bag, no splinters

I might slide through just to check that fixture

And if I go broke, I'll flip that script, no fiction

Back to the field, no ref, no whistle

Written by: Valentin Forb Ithen

Rodapé Shazam

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