Chill - JR Writer Paroles , lyrics

Paroles de Chill de JR Writer

Chill est une chanson de JR Writer pour laquelle les lyrics ont été ajoutés en septembre 2013.

Les paroles de Chill ont été relues et mises en page, cependant, il est fort probable qu'il y ait encore des incompréhensions. N'hésitez pas à prendre contact par mail.

I told her somebody lying, I'm not the deal
Must be getting higher than a doctor bill
I hit the spot and your wife be tryna cop a feel
Till I look and tell her ma, you gotta chill
The way I'm forcing on them, they say that I'm the worst
New pair of Michael Jordans and my Nike shirt
Pinch on the ab, lawyer getting right the word
Been to the past, swore I'm 'bout to write a verse
No, it gotta hurt, you ain't getting nothing from me
You's a leach, all you do is beg for money
Another dummy, you about to crash
No, this ain't about the past, you about to pass
No, I ain't about the past, I'm about the blast
Cool out on the map, shooting off the glass
Get to tracking when them things get clapping
Thinking it won't really happen till it really happen
Have you laying on the floor like what really happen
Hundred sprayers that you doing 'fore you finish rapping
Let's get it cracking, nigga, rapido
Your hoe know I've been the captain, watch me rock the boat
Hottest flow, watch me glow, hit the strip then pop and go
I'm a pro, y all should know, when I'm in the mix I lock and load
Stop and go, watch us froze, admit I'm icy, hoe
Rolex on, Audemar, hop out on your bitch and rock the boat
I'm the dope, y all a joke, he ain't even kinda close
You won't find us, piranhas on the entire coast
What's popping on beside me, I'm on my way to get myself some Chinese
Sweating like they Siamese
You can find me in that Maserati, hoe
Taking the top off and on, it's that mind control
That's right nigga, thunder and that lightning, nigga
Sparks to your brain, come and get it, light it, nigga
I don't like you niggas talking about you run New York
Only flips you know is car wheel and summer salts
That's your mother's Ford, bitch should've spit you out
Plus you still staying with her, bitch should've kicked you out
Listen, we eating good, life's straight
Rice cape, caught this Rollie with the white face
It's all love even though I like hate
Put a pretender in the blender, watch his life shake
Patterned leather, I love it, white grey
Took the top off the 7, what a nice day
Jewels on freeze, this that ice age
I be blowing on trees, this that white haze
Bad boy, we come happy, smoking, bad boy, I mean to pee on steady
Laugh boy, let a nigga scheme on Freddy
Bad boy, hit 'em with machine gun kellies
That's what you get tryna be me
Team thunder in this bitch, I'm the VP
Put you under with a clip off a GP
Fuck a toll, you won't pass, man, that's easy
Believe me, I'm killing shit when I'm spitting more
In a wish for my big bro, stealing chicks, hitting this, go
Box hot, no Crisco, shot pot no shot clock or shot pock we hit, go
Put your top on you Cisco, I ball, no disco, hitting though, my wrist glow
Courtside, nick flow, Mellow almost stepped on my big toe
I get dough, money's what a nigga trapping for
I'll keep grinding till I'm getting what I'm asking for

Note : 1 étoile2 étoiles3 étoiles4 étoiles5 étoiles
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Autres singles de JR Writer

  1. Life In The City
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