Melted Songtext
von Huskii
Melted Songtext
Ricky got me feelin crippy
Got me singing Jimmy Hendrix tryna pull a string
Elton John when I push a key lookin Pusha T as I′m pulling in
Big calais with the rims looking
Like exactly what my daddy shoulda been
Too busy with the sharps bin while sharks fin circle where he swim
I can smell the blood from miles away now
Everybody food I don't like wear a bib
We ain′t spinning blocks we only do it once
Make phone call sayin' yeah habib
Where I been up in the main
Tyna hold my head high while rare our kids
With a fake smile on a Skype call
Tryna hide my scars I'm never bearing skin
White boy no Corleone
When I tell em that I grew up with the mob
I ain′t goin back to jail again
I promise lana I won′t screw up with the job
On the west coast in the shadows
On my Tom n Jerry tryna put in bigger crops
I got big fish with a little belly and a bigger eye up in my city lost
(Doing laps)
Silly man
Silly man doing laps
Figure skating bro
Figure skating we speeding skating
Cunts are just doing laps
Ricky Bobby in the commy
Got me sippin coffee with a fucking Dumbledoor
Wizard with the whippet bet
I told him when I see him next he better come with more
You'll be rewarded
Plenty brothers wanna run the ball
And come in short platform 9 and 3 quarters
While I′m in this black Porsche with a white key and green mortgage
I'm a beast for this
Peeps saw this
All my family eating three courses
Sydney city spitting Ghetto Gospels
Feel Spanian I could write the streets chorus
John Cena Ain′t nobody seen us
But we throwing elbows every week for this
I was weak before this
Eating beans to get to sleep for this
Suffer for my art
I'm running from the past
Coming from my heart on everything I do
Mud up in my glass
All my brothers fast
Ramadan with the stick n move
You can′t pick n' choose
It's been four years
Three lagging since Body Bag sleeping in the booth
Now I′m out here getting six figures for the shit I do
Got me singing Jimmy Hendrix tryna pull a string
Elton John when I push a key lookin Pusha T as I′m pulling in
Big calais with the rims looking
Like exactly what my daddy shoulda been
Too busy with the sharps bin while sharks fin circle where he swim
I can smell the blood from miles away now
Everybody food I don't like wear a bib
We ain′t spinning blocks we only do it once
Make phone call sayin' yeah habib
Where I been up in the main
Tyna hold my head high while rare our kids
With a fake smile on a Skype call
Tryna hide my scars I'm never bearing skin
White boy no Corleone
When I tell em that I grew up with the mob
I ain′t goin back to jail again
I promise lana I won′t screw up with the job
On the west coast in the shadows
On my Tom n Jerry tryna put in bigger crops
I got big fish with a little belly and a bigger eye up in my city lost
(Doing laps)
Silly man
Silly man doing laps
Figure skating bro
Figure skating we speeding skating
Cunts are just doing laps
Ricky Bobby in the commy
Got me sippin coffee with a fucking Dumbledoor
Wizard with the whippet bet
I told him when I see him next he better come with more
You'll be rewarded
Plenty brothers wanna run the ball
And come in short platform 9 and 3 quarters
While I′m in this black Porsche with a white key and green mortgage
I'm a beast for this
Peeps saw this
All my family eating three courses
Sydney city spitting Ghetto Gospels
Feel Spanian I could write the streets chorus
John Cena Ain′t nobody seen us
But we throwing elbows every week for this
I was weak before this
Eating beans to get to sleep for this
Suffer for my art
I'm running from the past
Coming from my heart on everything I do
Mud up in my glass
All my brothers fast
Ramadan with the stick n move
You can′t pick n' choose
It's been four years
Three lagging since Body Bag sleeping in the booth
Now I′m out here getting six figures for the shit I do
Writer(s): Caleb Tasker, Seamus Coyle, Lewis Hosie, Allan Mcconnell, Benjamin Hayden Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
