Gunplay - Numbers on the Board lyrics
[Gunplay - Numbers on the Board lyrics]
Living legend, nigga living legend, nigga
Living legend, nigga
Fuck is my name? No sucker for fame
Never tucked in a chain, what
You fucking insane?
You little brat, we ain't nothing the same
No new lieutenant, same crew in the game
Bang! Dang, I must be super insane
To punch 50 in the face and
Beat a sentence in vain murder, mayhem
Machines and machetes in the AM
Pirellis on the Lam' and I'm
Barely in the lab barely good at math
You niggas from the street? I'm from
The belly of the ave' berettas or the jabs
Can't bargain with a Carbon 15
Parched and fatigued in my starch fatigues
Waiting for the income and marching fiends
Try and pump up from pawns to kings
From under the porch light to
Picking the Porsche type
From doubling dirty money that
I'm forced to clean
Getting high, not caring what the poison is
I be whipping babies like some noisy kids
Every day, steak, lobster, oysters, ribs
Bibs man, them fakes be recording fibs
Torch, new Bimmer, got no miles and rims
Control the trap like the house on Sims
It was all good a week ago, now it's no grins
For all y'all niggas, no wins
And I'll go polish my rims
And scrape gum off the bottom of my Timbs
Whack a motherfucker
Give his partner a glimpse
Slingin' Add' at your front door
You need guns? I want war
Motherfuckers can't rhyme no more
'Bout crime no more
Living legend, nigga
Fuck is my name? No sucker for fame
Never tucked in a chain, what
You fucking insane?
You little brat, we ain't nothing the same
No new lieutenant, same crew in the game
Bang! Dang, I must be super insane
To punch 50 in the face and
Beat a sentence in vain murder, mayhem
Machines and machetes in the AM
Pirellis on the Lam' and I'm
Barely in the lab barely good at math
You niggas from the street? I'm from
The belly of the ave' berettas or the jabs
Can't bargain with a Carbon 15
Parched and fatigued in my starch fatigues
Waiting for the income and marching fiends
Try and pump up from pawns to kings
From under the porch light to
Picking the Porsche type
From doubling dirty money that
I'm forced to clean
Getting high, not caring what the poison is
I be whipping babies like some noisy kids
Every day, steak, lobster, oysters, ribs
Bibs man, them fakes be recording fibs
Torch, new Bimmer, got no miles and rims
Control the trap like the house on Sims
It was all good a week ago, now it's no grins
For all y'all niggas, no wins
And I'll go polish my rims
And scrape gum off the bottom of my Timbs
Whack a motherfucker
Give his partner a glimpse
Slingin' Add' at your front door
You need guns? I want war
Motherfuckers can't rhyme no more
'Bout crime no more