Joey Bada$$, Chuck Strangers - FromdaTomb$ lyrics

Jo-Vaughn Virginie Scott [Brooklyn, New York. USA.]

[Joey Bada$$, Chuck Strangers - FromdaTomb$ lyrics]

("Go Brooklyn!") said, what it's like?
Joey Bad' and Chuck Strangers
Leave niggas endangered
It's the real, yo, what's the word word?
Pass the herbs check

My man Dirty had the buddha just to
Put me in my right mind
I rhyme stoned, drop jewels and bright lines
Sight dimes wit' slight closed eyes
I'm slight sober ma, you ain't that girl at
Giving throat so bye f it, I'm bipolar
Took shorty to the backroom
Play charades, she actin like a vacuum
Showed her to the door before the afternoon
She fell hard on the floor
So you know that she'll be back soon
Fake MC's get their reps ruined
Young villain hop up on the
Track then the track doomed
Click-clack boom
Resurrecting boom bap from the tombs
Raps dope like crack in cocoons
Back in this mood, back on the move
It's the motherfucking real
Nigga chill act cool
Pay respect to the cat Drew
And I'm way too blessed to
Be throwing shots at you
Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest
Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era

I'm tryna find my own lane
In this freeway of life
Just remember home boy there ain't
No free way to life
My nigga it's gon cost you
Try not to lose your soul
To the rims, hoes, and gold
Cause once the devil grab hold
That nigga ain't letting go
And I'm far from religious
I just know right and wrong
I know how to write these songs
I know how to light these bongs
I know how to rip thongs and
I'm pretty good at beer pong
Nigga, I'm so crazy, nigga I'm loco
Gassed up like Sunoco
Press the pedal through the floor
Bitch we out the door, vroom vroom, skurrt
Bitch love don't live here no more
Cause her weave look faker than her Louie bag
Weak chick I tried to bag
Had the nerve to turn me down
Heard this song and turned around
Now she want me to unzip her pants
But I'm gone, bitch missed her chance

Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest
Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era
Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest
Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era

I got sick of class, started making classics
Now all I really do is get
The grass lit and bust asses
I'm sure to blow like bust acid
Puff, assist like Maravich, a true Maverick
And I average above average on an average day
Doing bad shit bet you still can’t pass this
And his teacher still pass him
Though they adolescents be addin' rappin'
Sessions over addin' lessons
Like fuck trigonometry
I’m trying to multiply monopolies
Subtract some homies then divide the cheese
Divide legs just to isosceles so my
Eyes can see through the E
Shit on you hypotheses
Hypocrisy after essence like apostrophes
You can’t stand here unless you
Pay a posture fee
Part the cheese, head out the spot and leave
A pile of G's for apology

Joey Bad and Chuck Strangers
Leaving niggas endangered danger, danger
Joey Bad leaving niggas endangered

Interpretation for


Add Interpretation

Add extended interpretation

If you know what the artist is talking about, can read between the lines, and know the history of the song, you can add interpretation to the lyrics. After checking by our editors, we will add it as the official interpretation of the song!

Latest added interpretations to lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Interpret