Lyrics:
to tell that I'm doing well
A wholesale, cook crack 'till my clothes smell
And if it all goes well by the end of the year
then I'm gone, I ain't going
for a mouse
You watching her same loving hands that absorb pain, kill
You're learning that life's more than a board game
Still better line up the cubes
cousin caught a next shot
Out in yard, tryna line up a headshot
Flew back home tryna get it by the headlock
I was getting boxes, banging it in Z shots
on the phone, shot me a cold dove
She said she can't talk, she got a sore throat
But she probably gettin fucked by a sport coat
I'm goin through it
Yeah
y'all
that is made many times that which aches in my mind
Is when fakes try to rhyme and they take petty lines
To put stakes against mine but I breaks them
the movement is lost
So we blowing up God's phone
Pray he get us off hold soon
Bought our own space but our asses are frozen
Blow enough smoke to punch
sales and you wish for nothing in between
So you're sitting by the phone, you're waiting fot the call
A casting to the show, a ticket to revolution
We
on buses, one bag of clothes
Didn't shower you with love, I Katrina'd our home
Less calls by phone, you hold the voice messages
Heart growing cold the love
wombs
It's all in the light the demons still know
who their grabbin on and pulling down below
and in the end in your kitschy gray hole
you'll find love
an original
But the kids don't know
I was spitting flows before flip phones
Back when it wasn't cool to
Rap about sniffing coke
And you right it might be
you stinking, free my niggas out the clank
And ain't no freebies round this bitch, I'm in the dope hole nigga
Door swanging, phone ranging, I got dope
two men at the end of the fucking line
Took out the phone and dimes, gazed at each other one last time
Fore he snatched them and disappeared into
are on their mobile phones, forces on red alert
Supermarket shelves are empty but the churches have full pews
TV schedules rearranged to get the latest
time by chasing hoes
All the thing you didn't know
Babygirl don't think you grown
Tell me who was on your phone
You're hiding all these names
Yeah it's
I've woken up on the wrong side of the floor since 1997
I can't get this fucking hole out of my head
And as I walk on this bedroom floor with no
the A, I'mma need hoes by the busload
But only the freaks, they like women
That like thumbs in thei' butt hole I told you I'm cutthroat
(Don't judge,
inspiration crash une nouvelle line de putain de sa mere
Tellement ter ter
Car sur fond de rap de rue
Je crache mon glair, mon frere
Des le reveil, j‘regrette
inspiration crash une nouvelle line de putain de sa mere
Tellement ter ter
Car sur fond de rap de rue
Je crache mon glair, mon frere
Des le reveil, j‘regrette
of yourself that you hate, the more that you look to replace, the more you'll be willing to pay
This hole got me stuck in a game that you didn't even realize
bitch
I'm comin' from the curb to this money
I'm out of town, you hit my line
You gon' get served by my granny, easy money
dreams fell short of hooping
Tough up on the live but in the streets you make no movement
Yous a shooter thooter
hit my line I never knew her
got
And sometimes in the night
You answer the phone
And they breathe down the line
Just to see if you're home
They sing in your garden
Like dogs when the fight
banging
The town of macks is gettin way hot now
Police be tappin my phone and getting me locked down
But it's an everyday thang if you slang
20 zips gone in
Discuss these phone line by dave hole Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In