S.A.S. - Tarantula lyrics
[S.A.S. - Tarantula lyrics]
Dipset, Eurogang, SAS
Yeah, packs the pound, back 'em down
We clattin' 'em bound
We spittin' on this bashmess sound
Yeah, packs the pound, back 'em down
We clattin' 'em bound
We spittin' on this bashmess sound aiiiiyyyy
I know why the flow's tight
My jewelry is so bright
That the chain light up the club
Call it a strobe light
Love to hate me but hate to love me
Face it dummy, I'm makin' money
(It's all fine)
You spittin' for fun, I'm spittin' for funds
Act like a prick and get bun
Get up and give you the run
Mega's a G, I don't need that bling
Sayin' that you better than me
That's a idiot ting
And I'm sittin' on low pros
You watchin' my Rolls go
Spit artic wind, yeah, brother my flow's cold
And when will you guys learn
I told you it's my turn
Scar so smooth de gal dem
Think it's a sideburn
I get it to move, I never will lose
Naw gent, for life, yeah that's right
Don't g et it confused rhyme wit' a accent
Grind when you stack heads
Head gone, zip it up, wind to this bashmess
The tarrantula
Time fi di Massive come sing ya (SAS)
The tarrantula
Don't play with my style I might sting ya
(SAS) the tarrantula
You waan me inject the bacteria (SAS)
We make yuh body gwaan stiff
And yuh spine gwaan numb
Now come fi get some
You can catch May' bunnin' a spliff
Spending them funds like he rich
Hey, I run with the Dips
Gained a 100 of chips
So you know I got expensive tastes
And ends to waste to change the
Way the Benz is shaped
In fact, we runnin' a pace
Bought you with guns on the waist
Skank and I'm done in the place
Like you got something to say
Act tuffy with the Dipset Shower Gang
And boy trust me you get
Duppied in an hour man
But F that, back to the dance
Watchin' the chicks as they glance
Waitin' to take up a chance
Uh, to make an advance
We're them dudes that rock the ice
And if you snooze then you
Lose, we caught ya wife, a'ight
Watch me, I'm so fly, clock how I roll by
95 percent of the time I'm in my mode high
More drum and bass, we sampled and fused it
To a all day parade to carnival music
They don't understand like I'm
Spittin' another language
Mira, I could either spit it in Spanish
She like "Papi chulo, you numero uno"
The way she shakin' her culo
Might be gettin' duro
You have no prave, wind and panat me
Even in the club these chicks wanna menage
Sippin' too much Bacardi probably
I tell her "Quieren no suave mami"
This is for my men dem with accents
And my afro-caribbean sisters
Winding in bashments
Foot pon shoulder wit' ya leg high
And oh yes, that says high
Got me stuck, red-eye
My dancehall grinders, poor, young minors
Now droppin' banks, poppin' champs, 4-1-9ers
And when the wrist gleam
My forearms the sickest
I always keep it clean like
Don Juan the Bishop bitches