Filet Mignon - The Cutlery, Mr. J. Medeiros, Blanka

Filet Mignon - The Cutlery, Mr. J. Medeiros, Blanka

Альбом
The Cutlery
Год
2018
Язык
`Angļu`
Длительность
178660

Zemāk ir dziesmas vārdi Filet Mignon , izpildītājs - The Cutlery, Mr. J. Medeiros, Blanka ar tulkojumu

Dziesmas vārdi " Filet Mignon "

Oriģinālteksts ar tulkojumu

Filet Mignon

The Cutlery, Mr. J. Medeiros, Blanka

Now how come I ain’t made it yo

Ain’t no play when stakes is low

Lady luck don’t own no apron

Hey but that filet she owe

Tryna eat I’m climbing steep hills

Hollywood sign high as steeples

Ain’t got no time to sleep

Well that’s why I ain’t kind to sheep

Still they out there finding futons

Millionaires if counting coupons

Scuse my French ain’t got no moutons

Fuck you and your croutons

Little bread middle men

Might be eating still ain’t fed

Got a Beat I’ll juice you in it

Michael Keaton’s little head

Diane Keating Woody Allen

Keep them in their wooden beds

High end sneakers what he styln

Feet ain’t ever stood for shit

At the mall spending senseless

Killing for them silly trends

At my core vet’ing you Princes

Till you more than little red

You ain’t fucking with my bars

Why you’re homies acting funny

If I’ve offered you a round

Only cus I’m acting Sunny

Light you up when you in town

Don’t you know I got them keys

Shoulda kept that drinking down

Now you’s can’t leave

5 foot 4 but that don’t stress me

I go Pesci I go lefty

Why go test me you’ll go nighty

Find the whole time I was righty

I ain’t lying I ain’t silent

Violence got no height requirements

Go ahead and talk that shit

My whole life been fighting giants

Tell me what your words say

I can go the nerd way

Flip you with so many verbs

Damn I got absurd play

She say I ain’t got a thing

She blame it all on my rapping

I’m thinking we got a flame

Guess its just a box of matches

My rapping got her that ring

Guess its just for boxing matches

Everybody acts the same

When money is their top attraction

What is wrong with cutting songs

My Poppa was cutting lawns

My Momma a cocktail waitress

Tell me where their son belongs

If what I want ain’t what I need

How the fuck can I proceed

You follow then you swallow

That’s the only way that you’ll succeed

Damn I’m just so immature

Rhymes like that well I’m too old

Damn I feel so miniature

This time I gotta finally grow

Yes I gotta finally go

Yes I got an apron on

I’ll be doing as I’m told

And serving you filet mignon

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