I got a lot of, got a lot of shit on my mind
Brain scorching, how I get better every time I cut ties like Bunk Moreland
Talkin' elegant fly shit n bullets, step into my office its business
If you wanna make an offer, talk proper, remember I hold a heavy hand like Marlo
Extra mags in the jacket, exotics by the quarter ounce in my cargos
Four digits spent on the barcode of the clothes in my wardrobe
Four missed calls, all of them get ignored
It's hard not to feel like an outcast when my outfits cost three stacks
Uh, these niggas never knew what I was on
I played it clever and calm, Sasuke route, had to sever that bond
Aint have to tell me to tool up always got it on
N my stick blow blue flame like Azula, you don't want no problems
Know I bring more heat than sozin's comet, I'm just bein' honest
Off this gun shit, I'm a prophet, makin' profit, I'm a prophet
Makin' profit, I'm a prophet, makin' profit
You can see I really made a profit
I got my woman in Saint Laurent, Margiela, Stone Island, more often than you do for yourself
I don't know if that's somethin' to brag about or if I need help
Know it's a couple women who woulda gave me the world when I ain't wanna give it to myself, damn
90-minute baller, ain't spend time on the bench, so I ain't have much opportunities to get
Shit off my chest Glock on his waist, magazines in the vest, overseas on
The beach, Nadi kissin' on his neck, I'm unfamiliar with stress, but now that I'm lookin
Back, felt like everything you said was cap
Was you really gon' slide, did you really have my back
Shit, if it wasn't for me niggas wouldn't even have the gat
So with that being said, all my guns loaded with lead, treat my bitches like Kevin Garnett, uncut gems
Show them the world in my hands, but that's nothin' they can have
Sorry, ma, I
Know that's my bad
My apology baby you can't have that
Such a pity, such a pity
Bruce Wayne, of my city
Ain't nobody movin', how I'm doin
I'm movin' closely across
The board, these niggas makin' pawn movements
Only nigga shoot more in my city, Shaughn Cooper
Gun$moke - Verbal Thoughts Lyrics
Gun$moke - Verbal Thoughts Lyrics
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English
I got a lot of, got a lot of shit on my mind
Brain scorching, how I get better every time I cut ties like Bunk Moreland
Talkin' elegant fly shit n bullets, step into my office its business
If you wanna make an offer, talk proper, remember I hold a heavy hand like Marlo
Extra mags in the jacket, exotics by the quarter ounce in my cargos
Four digits spent on the barcode of the clothes in my wardrobe
Four missed calls, all of them get ignored
It's hard not to feel like an outcast when my outfits cost three stacks
Uh, these niggas never knew what I was on
I played it clever and calm, Sasuke route, had to sever that bond
Aint have to tell me to tool up always got it on
N my stick blow blue flame like Azula, you don't want no problems
Know I bring more heat than sozin's comet, I'm just bein' honest
Off this gun shit, I'm a prophet, makin' profit, I'm a prophet
Makin' profit, I'm a prophet, makin' profit
You can see I really made a profit
I got my woman in Saint Laurent, Margiela, Stone Island, more often than you do for yourself
I don't know if that's somethin' to brag about or if I need help
Know it's a couple women who woulda gave me the world when I ain't wanna give it to myself, damn
90-minute baller, ain't spend time on the bench, so I ain't have much opportunities to get
Shit off my chest Glock on his waist, magazines in the vest, overseas on
The beach, Nadi kissin' on his neck, I'm unfamiliar with stress, but now that I'm lookin
Back, felt like everything you said was cap
Was you really gon' slide, did you really have my back
Shit, if it wasn't for me niggas wouldn't even have the gat
So with that being said, all my guns loaded with lead, treat my bitches like Kevin Garnett, uncut gems
Show them the world in my hands, but that's nothin' they can have
Sorry, ma, I
Know that's my bad
My apology baby you can't have that
Such a pity, such a pity
Bruce Wayne, of my city
Ain't nobody movin', how I'm doin
I'm movin' closely across
The board, these niggas makin' pawn movements
Only nigga shoot more in my city, Shaughn Cooper
Brain scorching, how I get better every time I cut ties like Bunk Moreland
Talkin' elegant fly shit n bullets, step into my office its business
If you wanna make an offer, talk proper, remember I hold a heavy hand like Marlo
Extra mags in the jacket, exotics by the quarter ounce in my cargos
Four digits spent on the barcode of the clothes in my wardrobe
Four missed calls, all of them get ignored
It's hard not to feel like an outcast when my outfits cost three stacks
Uh, these niggas never knew what I was on
I played it clever and calm, Sasuke route, had to sever that bond
Aint have to tell me to tool up always got it on
N my stick blow blue flame like Azula, you don't want no problems
Know I bring more heat than sozin's comet, I'm just bein' honest
Off this gun shit, I'm a prophet, makin' profit, I'm a prophet
Makin' profit, I'm a prophet, makin' profit
You can see I really made a profit
I got my woman in Saint Laurent, Margiela, Stone Island, more often than you do for yourself
I don't know if that's somethin' to brag about or if I need help
Know it's a couple women who woulda gave me the world when I ain't wanna give it to myself, damn
90-minute baller, ain't spend time on the bench, so I ain't have much opportunities to get
Shit off my chest Glock on his waist, magazines in the vest, overseas on
The beach, Nadi kissin' on his neck, I'm unfamiliar with stress, but now that I'm lookin
Back, felt like everything you said was cap
Was you really gon' slide, did you really have my back
Shit, if it wasn't for me niggas wouldn't even have the gat
So with that being said, all my guns loaded with lead, treat my bitches like Kevin Garnett, uncut gems
Show them the world in my hands, but that's nothin' they can have
Sorry, ma, I
Know that's my bad
My apology baby you can't have that
Such a pity, such a pity
Bruce Wayne, of my city
Ain't nobody movin', how I'm doin
I'm movin' closely across
The board, these niggas makin' pawn movements
Only nigga shoot more in my city, Shaughn Cooper
Writer: Garrett Anderson
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid