artla – no choice lyrics
[интро]
the coat for my battery
five bands for the coat, it should’ve came with a battery in that b+tch still got a dope or somethin’ (yeah)
non+stop
седня я пишу о тебе, но не пишу о тебе
пойми, я устал
седня я пишу о тебе, но не пишу о тебе
я устал
[припев]
i can’t never spend no money on these motherf+ckin’ hoes
k!ll that n+gga from my car, yeah, he don’t got no choice
i was broke, now my wrist cost a rolls+royce (green+green)
yeah, you don’t want no beef ’cause i hang with them dangerous boys
f+cked your b+tch in her face then i passed her to my boys (b+tch)
ridin’ ’round in a foreign that cost two hundred, maybe more
popped three percs, it ain’t enough, i need more
dead prеsidents, my pockets look like a morguе
[куплет 1]
i remember i was broke, now i’m at the top
choppa on me, n+gga, plus my hand on my glock
yeah, i don’t do no xans, i’m sippin’ on wock’
my choppa isn’t straight, yeah, it’ll f+ck you up (yeah, yeah, grrah)
grand theft auto, livin’ life like gta (skrrt, skrtt)
n+ggas be trippin’, sayin’ they gdk, yeah (f+ck ’em)
yeah, like, what you’re talkin’ ’bout?
feelin’ like a librarian, k!ll you with no sound
them n+ggas be trippin’, them n+ggas be tweakin’
you’re not my girl, yeah, yeah, i won’t l!ck it
какой блять chelny sound? i’m not from this planet
yeah, yeah, i’m feelin’ like i’m martian
какой блять chelny sound? i’m not from this planet
i saw you gang, now i’m nauseous
[припев]
i can’t never spend no money on these motherf+ckin’ hoes
k!ll that n+gga from my car, yeah, he don’t got no choice
i was broke, now my wrist cost a rolls+royce (green+green)
yeah, you don’t want no beef ’cause i hang with them dangerous boys
f+cked your b+tch in her face then i passed her to my boys (b+tch)
ridin’ ’round in a foreign that cost two hundred, maybe more
popped three percs, it ain’t enough, i need more
dead presidents, my pockets look like a morgue
[куплет 2]
[…]
[припев]
i can’t never spend no money on these motherf+ckin’ hoes
k!ll that n+gga from my car, yeah, he don’t got no choice
i was broke, now my wrist cost a rolls+royce (green+green)
yeah, you don’t want no beef ’cause i hang with them dangerous boys
f+cked your b+tch in her face then i passed her to my boys (b+tch)
ridin’ ’round in a foreign that cost two hundred, maybe more
popped three percs, it ain’t enough, i need more
dead presidents, my pockets look like a morgue
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