Lyrics:
they want analog
Lurkin yards,am throwin every line
I been makin hits,like am not underdog
cannot tell my team that I didn't get my yards
First down on the line
We could not penetrate em
Second down on the line
Caught em hesitating
Respect my
that thousand-yard stare
Into the white lines that were blinking
The road that won't stop winking
A promise of a town full o' clean air
And there were
All the trees they line the yards
Suburban homes all in a row screened in porches,
Swimming pools deluxe electric garage doors
And trampolines,
bar
To five cars all in line in my side yard
From the wall to the window, hit the crescendo if you tryna flex
Cop a Glock and a thot, take a shot
ain't looking back no cap
100 yard dash
To the finish line
What cha think of that
What cha think of that
Fucking with the bats
Got my line tat I'm a lion
to gara wa o
I Dey for yard I dey cook my line Bebe
I just dey sip my sapele
I just dey grind on a daily
I just dey tell my angeli
Make she no go delay
to gara wa
The party must to fayaya
Fire must to fire down
Me I want to para now
Me I wan to gara wa
Verse 1
I Dey for yard I dey cook my line baby
I
Wa yoh knew about di touch line, touch line
Wi de a yard!see yoh Gwiba wa yoh have fi mi?
Call up Kaladio this one ah baddest audio
We de pon di
no boys
This ain't no game god
Dump his body in the train yard
Under the seven line
We couldn't have picked a better time
The way he actin' he acting
the top down, we got
this locked down, like convicts on the run
getting shot down, we four times
gaining yards in the whole line, see me
and Tech we
ina mi pocket, duffle bag full up a
US and pound and couple yard money
Chop eeh line cut it up like chucky
Fi a who an a who a chat
An wi nuh MC
board
Sometimes you walk the line
And sometimes it walks you
You get quick to anger
Quick to put a knife up to another man's throat
I cannot still
fields and the clothes lines
And the junk yards and the highways come between us
And some other woman crying to her mother cause she turned and you were
the city's aflame
And November's dreams line the yard sales of May
It's always a reason they're trying to sell you
It's always a reasonable doubt
But
Though the wheet fields and the clothes lines
And the junk yards and the highways come between us
And some other woman's crying to her mother cause she
demons
Trust me come in your yard man's sneaking
Girl line me an opp
I'm in the mood to play with some guts
Demon things
Demon things if I step with Dumpz
the beat back
Question asking in a fashion
Tabloid plotting me to tumble
Compass I'm in the front yard
Breaking you these punch lines
Be on my life wasting
man like you are
I’m out of bounds, crossed the line by two yards
Standing here with so much fear and it’s too dark
I don’t know what to do anymore
in my handbag
Two hunnid in my go yard bag for real
Air lines throwing flags for real
Like we really got body bags for real
Dropping 5 thousand
like you are
Im out of bounds, crossed
the line by two yards
Standing here with so much
fear and its too dark
I dont know what to do anymore
Dying slow
figure in white
His arms are not twigs
He goes to sleep every night
He'll awake with a sermon
It keeps us organized
Brimstone guards his house and yard
Joy
Hey Hey bring em to the yard With Your skinny waist line
Grinding On me hard like you Want me Back
The closer it gets Temperature rise
Bad bitch she
whose broke is a dimwit
I'm gaining yards still at the same line of scrimmage
I'm trying hard still, putting nothing in it
But I can't kick back what I
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