Текст песни
No pain, no gain, all smiles like Colgate. Ayy, ayy, what's happenin'? What's happenin' though? It's your boy P Worthy, you know what I'm Sayin'? Tappin' in from the Westside of Bounty. Yeah, P4 on them cuts. Ooh, My nigga Fraud. Happy P Day, fool. La musica de Harry Fraud. Yeah. I think I met the bitch on Backpage. Told her I was doin' interviews, come meet me At the Batcave. Chevy slappin' B Braves. Me and Killa Monco fig right where Free Ricky Live. Let me take you back to those days. .45 in my Dickies, a little Sherm and some Cocaine. Yeah, I came up in the dope game. But switched the script and had these bitches walk The line like Soul Train. Pain, no gain, all smiles like Colgate. Sit on the avenue and watch her catch a Quick date. Me and Fraud goin' brazy off big Plates. I been fuckin' with Graf since the mixtapes. Real niggas back in style, at least that's what A bitch say. On pimpin', Westside Worth. Yeah, flyer than Jimmy Snuka, high off the Henn And cookies. Lemon, I never could be with Zendaya Playin' footsies. Super Saiyan charged, Up on my way to Mars. Run with shooters quick to AR to your ANR. Different flavor sauce, necklace Avianne. Dope too strong, gotta step on it like Xavier. Like it's '89, butter soft, Avion. My Laura Croft bitch badder than Laterion. I just wanna do her, rest up with my Niggas. Illuminati hit my DM like, "What's up, my nigga?" Yeah, 30K up in a Louis duffel. Feelin' like Dwayne Johnson how a Nigga move with muscle. Super fuck you to you hatin' niggas. And you Captain Save-a-Hoes with the cape, Watch me take your bitches. Take a picture 'cause you might not remember this. Soul House membership, presence December 25th. Uh-huh, uh, ayy, mama raised a genius. Yak spillin' on my Raf Simons suede Adidas. Fashion killer, every day is Easter. Fuck a brand, I can tell if you got Swag by how you lace your sneakers. Lot of rappers in NY, but I became the Meanest. Respected by they, but I ain't never paid For features. Butt-ass naked with your girl, Only my chain between us. Fuckin' your bitch like I'm tryna make a fetus. You can tell that we somebody by the way They greet us. They know we strapped and some Of the fans be afraid to meet us. Baby, they need us, we the major leaguers. We make believers out of make-believers. I be makin' cheese over the sauce like I'm Makin' pizza. You way too eager, life a bitch, I make you leave her. Nigga, they know us, Weight holder. My lawyer is a case closer. I got lean for your grape soda. A razor blade break boulders. The pendant on my gold chain could break shoulders. I can't stay sober, I get the weight over. Get it from Khaled in New York, I go From J Bird to the Jehovah. Think I met the bitch on Backpage. Told her I was doin' interviews, come meet me At the Batcave. Chevy slappin' B Braves. Me and Killa Monco fig right where Free Ricky Live. Let me take you back to those days. .45 in my Dickies, a little Sherm and some Cocaine. Yeah, I came up in the dope game. But switched the script and had these bitches walk The line like Soul Train.
Jay Worthy, Daytona, Grafh — Backpage
«Backpage» — Jay Worthy, Daytona, Grafh. Читайте текст песни и подпевайте с караоке-подсветкой: строки текста подсвечиваются в такт музыке. Слушайте онлайн бесплатно или скачайте mp3. Длительность записи — 3:27. Жанр — Рэп и хип-хоп.
