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Knife Talk

Knife Talk

Drake

作詞 A. Graham/S. Bin Abraham-Joseph/L. Wayne/P. Houston/J. Houston/R. Mayers/P. Johnson

作曲 A. Graham/S. Bin Abraham-Joseph/L. Wayne/P. Houston/J. Houston/R. Mayers/P. Johnson

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I gotta feed the streets, my pistol gon' bleed the streets Ski mask on my face, sometimes you got to cheat To stay ahead in this bitch-ard (Gang), drank syrup like it's liquor Street life'll have you catchin' up to God quicker (Yeah, gang) Sticker, AK-40 to your liver Let the chopper bang on you like a Blood or a Cripper (Gang) Flipper, so much bread, I'm a gymnast Made so much money off of dummies, off of dummies (Yeah, gang) I'm mister body catcher, Slaughter Gang soul snatcher Ain't no regular F-150, this a fuckin' Raptor No capper, street nigga, not a rapper Chopper hit him and he turned into a booty clapper Smith & Wesson, I'm 4L Gang reppin' We done baptized morе niggas than the damn reverеnd (Yeah) Kappa Alpha, me and my gang, we do all the steppin' Who you checkin'? This FN shoot East to West End (Gang) Yeah I heard Papi outside And he got the double-R droppy outside Checked the weather and it's gettin' real oppy outside I'ma drop this shit and have these pussies droppin' like some motherfuckin'— Type of nigga that can't look me in the eyes I despise When I see you, better put that fuckin' pride to the side Many times, plenty times, I survived Beef is live, spoiler alert, this nigga dies Keep blickies, and you know the weed sticky My finger itchy, the Glock like to leave hickeys Your shooters iffy, a street punk could never diss me I come straight up out the 6, and we don't spare sissies I fuck with her, and fuck with her, and her I hit up err and tell him do the err, for sure Voodoo curse, it got him while I flew to Turks Know the dogs had to hit them where we knew it hurts Gang shit, that's all I'm on (Yeah) Gang shit, that's all I'm on Nigga, gang shit, that's all I'm on Gang shit, that's all I'm on Nigga, gang shit, that's all I'm on Gang shit, that's all I'm on Nigga, gang shit, that's all I'm on Gang shit, that's all I'm on Let it bang, bang, let it bang, bang 'Til his brains hang and his mama sang And the pastor sang and them bullets sang And them choppers sang and the choir sang I'm on everything Jacob charged me four-fifty for a tennis chain US Open, had it on us at the tennis game Tell the coach don't take me out, I like to finish games And my pen insane, and my men insane There's like eighty of us now, that's the scary thing Shit they doin' on that other side embarrassing We in Paris with it, hundred carats with it All this shit is for my son, 'cause he's inheritin' it If Young Metro don't trust you I'm gon' shoot you Gang Metro Gang shit, that's all I'm on Gang shit, that's all I'm on Nigga, gang shit, that's all I'm on Gang shit, that's all I'm on Nigga, gang shit, that's all I'm on Gang shit, that's all I'm on Nigga, gang shit, that's all I'm on Gang shit, that's all I'm on, yeah
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