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Lyrics » Letter : C » Artist : Curren$y » Skybourne Lyrics

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Skybourne by Curren$yالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Skybourne by Curren$y

     

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Box Chevy, no tint
Floatin' inside, aquarium
Yeah that's him,
Compository sketches is all
They can't catch us, Jet Setta's
I jointed the mile high club somewhere over Texas
Plotted my climb since the homie played the black Lexus
I told em put it all on spitta
Guaranteed winner, then a go getta
Ain't gotta go no where, I already came here with it
Pull up at the picnic El Camino on 13's
Red nose pit bulls in the back, No leash
Mu'fuckas well-trained, on the low I be havin' that high grade
Talkin' bout how a nigga smoke n maintain
That's word from a bird and a fuzzy herb tree
Fly tell that you ain't heard that from me

True vision and the impeccable timing
Shine so the blinded don't look twice
My Fresh don't it look nice
Yo D.N.A. ain't the same pimp so naw you don't look right
Fuck it, I fast forward past yours,
You wanted something to look up to so ask for it
Mississippi country bumpkin with nothin' to loose
I BB a king so let me sing you the blues
Let me lay down the rules,
Get money by all means,
Survive at all costs put god 'bove all things
I fall Short, pimpin' women with small shorts
Reachin' out for a smile like children and small folk
Always above the rim like what do you ball for?
If you ain't spending money then what did u call for
I look good for the fuck, but baby it's all spoke
The game is a bitch and shawty she all choke

Came through to conquer
We killin' this since contra
No sponser and I'm smokin' on a mini launcher
Eight grams nigga fuck with me
Gotta have 8 lungs to come puff with me
I don't blow Reggie Bush, neva' would
This heavy kush, oh you got some too? Very good
With a grinder, we grinders, top rhymers
Definers, drop gems so timeless
Burn like a C.D., get topped like Z.Z.
Flow like agua and I'm cold like a ski beat
Lord, got them hood niggas quotin my bars
And them bloggers like oh my gawd...
Smoke Robinson, earl james, and George Kush
Round table eatin' pasta like mobsta's
Make a killin' off sour D
They lied money really do grow off trees, yes

Writer : Franklin, Shante / Scott, Justin / Willis, David
Copyright : Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

These lyrics are not available for printing.

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