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a lau (producer) – what i know lyrics

[intro:]
*la musica de harry fraud*

[adrian lau:]
unh..
blunt smoke. double dutches, no jump rope
make ya lungs choke: d-ck in a nun’s throat
f-ck a one boat—this a land slide
i’m a land mine, ‘bout to make ya land mine
you wan’ stand by? await further instruction;
i done smoked too much purple to function!
i want the wrist looking like an avalanche hit it;
surf school, blowing up like the taliban hit it
trash can full of afghanistan in it:
i’m talking ‘bout kush, and the hash is from yemen!
keep it brooklyn like that boy hova
ya girl ‘bout to kick you out right now
and call her boy over!
nice ‘rrari, i’ma steal her in the toy-o-ta
shorty going down south like loy-o-la;
y’all are toy soldiers—i enjoy dough
but tend to avoid dojas, homie it’s all over
money talking like jeremy piven;
young chinaman balling like jeremy lin is!
i’m a spitter like curren$y, till the currency
flow in like a current we currently k!llin’
give a f-ck if you feel it!

[hook, adrian lau:]
i can’t tell you how it’s s’posed to be
i can only tell you what i know;
and i can’t let ya close to me
‘cause that’s just how i roll

[eddie b:]
shout out to veletta ‘cause your son is still the greatest;
i can’t believe these little thirst buckets are getting famous
it’s amazing how the game is still based on a cosign;
such a slap in the face to me on my own grind
i’m reaching the goal line like a young barry sanders;
weed lit? steve smith, carolina panthers
you looking for the answers, but you never gonna find ‘em
when i’m f-cking b-tches, i’ll always be right behind ‘em
daddy banana d-ck, yes, shorty couldn’t handle it
she was scandalous, so i sent her back to los angeles yeah
earthquake flow, baby, shake the ground
i run up in the castle, k!ll the king, and take the crown!
when i be rapping, i’m attacking, then i’m breaking you down
coming to get ‘em, i’ma dead ‘em, all they heard was the sound:
“blakka!” surf school is the congregation
all we do shine like a constellation, boy
allahu got bars, riding with the rock stars
new jersey drop shit, hot wired cop cars
hit ‘em with the hot sauce, then i’m getting topped off
the coupe is not yours—the roof is chopped off!
navy blue baby, five-point-oh
gold rims spinning fast, even when i drive slow
when i ride through ya ‘hood with a fly little hoe
that be sucking good d-ck, and swallow the whole load!

[hook]

[meyhem lauren:]
yo! surf school familiar, the wave pool could k!ll ya
used to be a dealer, come swing with a gorilla
i don’t want to talk about nothing but the scrilla;
that “how’s it going” shit is just a conversation filler
same occupation, i’m a fly rap designer;
try to keep my d-ck in venus fly trap vagina
custom made silk shirt; palm green corduroys
only build with champions; y’all niggas move with waterboys
i’m from queens ‘fact; get the cream ‘fact;
serve the fiends crack, hopping out the green ‘llac
air max ’9-5, live when i come through
i don’t really care how much it cost, nigga, i want two!
unh! get me three, four more
wavy with the work, got that seashore raw, unh!
live like i’m on top of the food chain
write raps for niggas that move ‘caine—laurenovich!

[hook x2]

- a lau producer lyrics

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