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Songer BL@CKBOX pt. 2
BL@CKBOX
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Yo'
Outside the box
Listen
I'm jumpin' on this track, I'm about to chat a load of grease
Smackin' loads of G's, whenever they're chattin' loads of breeze
Claim they're doing road and claim they're backin' loads of beef but
They're sat at yard, whilst I'm stacking loads of P's
If you don't rate what I'm doin', couldn't give one fuck
Your girl wishes you was me, but that's just tough luck
And now she's staring at me, bruv its like she's love struck
I'm gettin' straight red cards because the studs up
Songer why you been gone
Need that new sick song
Eyes are always flippin' red
Think they had two ticks on
Roll up with new kicks on
Hold on where's your bitch gone
Calls my dick a BMX, 'cause that's what she do tricks on
Claims he's got a merc', but still bitch I run past him
Don't know why he's talking to me, dickhead stop askin'
Said my bars are funny, but bitch I'm not laughin'
Boogie when I bust because I strictly come dancin'
Big man your jarin
Link up and then spar him
Gun fingers loaded, just skank out then blast him
Dank out that bathroom, strap that then spark it
Hennessy, vodka drank mat mans clarted
Hard flows whether the bars are new or whether the bars old, bars cold
Better then me? Nah you're in the past bro
Bottlin' a Scottish guy
Shoulda seen that glass go
Hittin' 'em in the 'ead and bruv
I nearly made his heart blow
Nearly made his heart burst
Lyricism's art work
Claim to be a rapper but you've never spat a hard verse
Writin' till my palm hurts
Stayin' till her ass twerks
Spittin' as he's whippin' man I made that car swerve
And when I'm on a beat, all you see is ri' in smoke
Watchin' what you eat but sniffin' bugle, diet coke
I suppose its fire every time that I compose 'cause I
Can see the future, present, past when my eyes are closed
17 and very lean
I'll be the best you've ever seen but you
Just gotta give me time like when a lemons green
I'm outside the box but he's a flippin' penalty
Beat your girl tomorrow, just to freshen up my memory
Seven shots of Hennessy, daily till I'm 70
Mix it with that cocadolla, that's the flippin' recipe
But all I see is jealousy, 'cause I'm the guy they'll never be
Goin' to my grave stone, bunnin' as they bury me
Yeah, that good youth with that rude manner
Purple creps yeah, you know I got that new swagger
Give a girl my lightsaber, till she sounds like Chewbacca
Goin' there with Anaballe
Dippin' yard with Susanna
Dippin' yard with Suzzie
She was peng but all her friends were dead, I called her Uzi
She's callin' me a cutie
I'm playin' Call-of-Duty, with one hand up on her booty
Boys can multi task
One handed as I shoot g
Lyrics for lyrics, man I would step on any
Tellin' me I'm old school but trust me, I ain't secondary
And if you're chattin' shit, trust me you'll be dead and buried
They claimin' that they're icy but they Ben and Jerry
I make words put it in a great verse
Now she's on her knees, but I'm tellin' her this ain't church
Tellin' her to leave 'cause I promise that this game hurts
I'm in love with brain and she in love with how my brain works
Yea its Songer outside the box
Keep the beat goin', I'm going back in
Yeah
Listen
Yo'
Sick rapper, big stacker, lip slapper, kick backer
Why you sleepin' on the boy, you a kidnapper
Bitch bad I wink at her shit mad I been badder
The way I role in stoned, you think I'm Mick Jagger
It's in gods hands they call me Maradona
I'm in my zone, don't disturb me when I'm gettin' gwalla
My old girl is so upset, I never wifed her but
It's ironic 'cause now she always misses Songer
Yeah, bang
Blackbox Part two
Big up Blackbox every time
You dun know big up readin'
Dun know
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