Streets - AP: Şarkı Sözleri, Müzik Videoları ve Konserler

Streets

7

Hip-Hop/Rap

Streets adlı parça {albumName} albümünün bir parçası olarak 1650630 Records DK tarafından 26 Aralık 2019 tarihinde yayınlandıStreets - Single

Şarkı Bilgileri

AlbümStreets - Single

Çıkış Tarihi26 Aralık 2019

Firma1650630 Records DK

LanguageEnglish

Melodiklik

Akustiklik

Valence

Dans Edilebilirlik

Enerji

BPM83

GENEL BAKIŞ

ŞARKI SÖZLERI

Krediler

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Anton Petrov

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Karon

Producer

David Rashon

Mixing Engineer

Şarkı sözleri

Mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm

When I pull up, I got shooters

Big rocks, big Glocks, and the Rugers

I ain’t cappin’ cuz my homie got a tool ya

Said she want me, I ain’t a mother fuckin’ fool ya

Too much bread, can't do math, need a tutor

Prayin’ for my fam, they can’t lose ya

We were broke, on a slope, 2002 ya

Now we ballin’ and racks all blue, ya

And I'm sweatin’ in my sleep

Catch a body on the street

All my demons live in me, ya

They be tellin’ me to tweak

But I'm loyal like a G

Cuz my homies gotta eat, ya

Fuck you if try me, got the macs out

I ain't gotta fuckin’ problem, less you stash out

We gon’ turn this fuckin’ spot, into a trap house

Spinnin’ hundreds every day till we can’t count

Got the bags in the back with a few pounds

Got the police on my ass, now I'm on the ground

Shot em twice, and homie he dead now

I was bawlin’ and my eyes turned red ya

When I pull up, I got shooters

Big rocks, big Glocks, and the Rugers

I ain’t cappin’ cuz my homie got a tool ya

Said she want me, I ain’t a mother fuckin’ fool ya

Too much bread, can't do math, need a tutor

Prayin’ for my fam, they can’t lose ya

We were broke, on a slope, 2002 ya

Now we ballin’ and racks all blue, ya

When in the fuckin’ cut, I’m countin’ bands

When I make a fuckin’ profit, I count grams

You can’t follow in my footsteps, where I stand

Cuz I do it for my motherfuckin’ fans

And they shoot you in ya sleep

And ya body on the street

And the blood all over me ya

Try to save you, now you free

And ya soul is with up thee

And ya momma she gon’ weep ya

Mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm

When I pull up, I got shooters

Big rocks, big Glocks, and the Rugers

I ain’t cappin’ cuz my homie got a tool ya

Said she want me, I ain’t a mother fuckin’ fool ya

Too much bread, can't do math, need a tutor

Prayin’ for my fam, they can’t lose ya

We were broke, on a slope, 2002 ya

Now we ballin’ and racks all blue, ya

Written by: Anton Petrov

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