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Not Alike (feat. Royce Da 5'9")

アーティスト:Eminem  アルバム:Kamikaze  作曲:M. Mathers, R. Montgomery, B. / Chambers & R. Spence Jr 

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Tay Keith, fuck these niggas up! Yeah Brain dead, eye drops Pain meds, cyclops Daybed, iPod "May-back," Maybach Trainwrecks, sidewalks Payless, high-tops K-Fed, iHop Playtex, icebox That's how much we have in common (Yah!) That's how much we have in common (Whoa!) Up on this mic when we're on it (Yah) That's how much we have in common (Yuh!) That's how much we have in common (Woo!) That's how much we have in common We are not alike, there's nada like us on the mic (Yah!) I don't do Jordans and Audemars I do explosions and Molotovs Y'all blowin' smoke as if y'all ain't washed I blow the smoke from the car exhaust Flyin' to a party I am not invited to, feelin' like the streets need me I ain't gotta dance long as my Ferrari Spider move like C Breezy I don't gotta hire goons I'd rather try to buy the moon and breathe freely The sky is blue, the tires new The Maserati white and cool like G-Eazy Why these dudes tryna figure out How to do a freestyle as fly as me? (Why?) I'm confused tryna figure out how to do Kapri Styles and Mya G Everybody doin' chick joints Probably rob these little dudes at fist point 'Member everybody used to bite Nickel Now everybody doin' Bitcoin We don't got nothin' in common (No!) We don't got nothin' in common (No!) Y'all into stuff like doubled-up Styrofoam cups On them uppers-and-downers (Woo!) I'm into stuff like doublin' commas Find me a brother who's solid To count the shit up and then bust the shit down When the cops hit us up, we can flush the shit down We cannot give a fuck, shit, a fuckin' colonic Sellin' your cock and your butt for a follower Possible couple of dollars, you powder sniff Now you slippin', call it a power trip, a product of politics Y'all went from profit and toppin' the charts To dropped in the park in a pile of shit Knowledge is power, but powerless If you've got it and you do not acknowledge it Y'all music sound like Dr. Seuss inspired it Hirin' strippers, prostitutes retirin' We can spit it for your advance I'm fit to be king, you're cut out to fit in Prince pants You niggas— Brain dead, eye drops Pain meds, cyclops Daybed, iPod "May-back," Maybach Trainwrecks, sidewalks Payless, high-tops K-Fed, iHop Playtex, icebox That's how much we have in common (Yah!) That's how much we have in common (Whoa!) Up on this mic when we're on it (Yah) That's how much we have in common (Yuh!) That's how much we have in common (Woo!) That's how much we have in common We are not alike, there's nada like us— You say you're affiliated with murderers, killers (Ayy!) The people you run with are thuggin' (Gang!) But you just a wannabe gunner (Gang!) Like you was gonna do somethin' Actin' like you catchin' bodies (Ayy!) And you got juice, lil' youngin', you buggin' You ain't never even been charged in connection with battery Bitch, you ain't plugged into nothin' Rap God spit lyrical bullets (Pew!) And gats cock, your partners better tool up This has not to do with muscular But have guns for sure, you better put a Strap on,


投稿者: TTR
プチリリ再生回数:68





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