album cover
Discrete
Hip-Hop/Rap
Discrete was released on September 26, 2024 by BOSS UP ENT as a part of the album Eloquence
album cover
Release DateSeptember 26, 2024
LabelBOSS UP ENT
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM148

Credits

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Semon Emari Craddock
Semon Emari Craddock
Songwriter

Lyrics

Man, this that real shit, he talkin' bout them bodies, but lil' brudda ain't never kill shit
I know my ex, bitch, mad I'm goin' up, I bet she real sick
Claim they all props on Instagram, but we know who toting real sticks
Still broke with 500,000, up a hundred M's, ****, then I'm real rich
And I did it on my own, my momma said that I need to quit it
And switch to producin' I ain't making no money off rapping in a minute
Don't be surprised when you see that Benz, E300, the windows be tinted
Don't be surprised when you see that AP, I'm taking yae and 2X to the dentist
Don't gotta mention that I've been a sickest, you already know that, give me my flow back
I know somebody who dissed my brother, got hit by a switch, now can't even blow back
It's crazy, hopped out the car, then he got hit, and his gang ran a four flat
Jacck havin' motion, been off the radar, won't show his face card, cause he don't gotta show that
Alright, come on, lil' brudda keep dissing, can't wait till we meet
Posted up on that one way, I'm doggin' the street
You not a real gangsta, be making them posts with another man pole
When you supposed to be discrete, been out the mix
While I'm counting gualla, just worried about dollars, I've been out of reach
Love the sound of that choppa, in a all black Impala
He a rook in the field, never tied up his cleats
4-0 on the hip right now, thinkin' it's gay, tryna blow a **** like a fan
Growing up ****, never had no cable, but I swear I got some shooters on demand
****, Cap, he be telling these fables, he from the suburbs
Swear to God, ****, on the men
And I heard that lil' bro got his pole took
But still actin' hard, **** tryna keep up with the klan
Top tier gooper, also known as the top tier...
**** be wannabes just because of me
And be loving the top tier looter
Been punching all day, I done hurt my knuckle
You don't wanna scuffle a top tier scooper
My **** been in and out them courts
Way more than LeBron for being a top tier hooper
Alright, come on, back on my shit again
Fucked her one time, now she ask can I hit again
Off the radar when **** can't find me
Cause they gon' try to blind me
Now she wanna fuck with the kid again
I ain't gon' bring up them bodies or none of them homies
My **** might be in the pen again
Slimy young ****, come try me young ****
I done slimed me a ****, he wanna be friends again
Nah, fuck it, these **** ain't shootin' for real, not buckets
He thinkin' I'm stupid, for real, I love it
He claimin' he's shooting, for real, come buss it
And you never be talking about bread, just shut it
If we talkin' bout money, for real, I touch it
**** tough on the net, but it's not clutchin'
The way that I flow on these beats, disgustin'
He thinking we jumpin', lil' brudda come up it
Last **** that dissed had to send him up
You said that's your brother, go pick him up
That big body built like a pickup truck
You livin' or dyin', man, choose your luck
Just remember, when is my time to go up
All that shit that you said, man, it's up and it's stuck
I'ma be touching these M's while you look like a pluck
You is not fucking with me, man, just keep it a buck
Uh, you was not fucking with me, ****
All right, come on
Written by: Semon Emari Craddock
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