Sean Price, Torae - By The Way lyrics
[Sean Price, Torae - By The Way lyrics]
Gotta be P hating
The fist to your face Clay
Muhammad Ali shaking
Fist full of chips grated, gotta be P caking
Whimp you with Jim faking, gotta be P aping
I sell white rock, and clap canons
I'm old school like white
Rock soda and backgammon
Rap phantom, Sean is a starving artist
I gain a lot of weight
Cause a nigga eating regardless
You a target, and talk about bullseye
You a Target employee, a good guy
And ain't nothing wrong with that, nigga
Ain't nothing wrong with this
I make something strong with rap, nigga
And guess what, the nigga next up
He can't make a song for shit
P - mad smart, no Cornell West shit
But I can make death ring your doorbell next
Kid i told y'all I'm with the family, chill
Don't sleep, a phone call will
Get your family killed, p
Gotta be Sean gotta be who bodied the song
Cause Brownsville ill, gotta be on
Ruckus, you wrong
Gotta be - what the fuck is you on?
Popping pills
Chopping krills - what the fuck is you doing?
Gotta be the best rapper to spit it
Clap in a minute
Gotta let these niggas know who
Still actually live it, p
It gotta be P snapping
The fifth to your face, shake
I gotta be relapsing
Spit in your face, maybe gotta be P laughing
Gift from the eight? Great
It gotta be P clapping
I can't stand around you bitch niggas
Emph beam make your team steam
Like a fish dinner but the new shit burgandy
With new kicks straight from Munich, Germany
My net worth be making your neck jerk
Expert whenever, wherever the sket burst
The most fabulous flow
Yo, your whole shit dead
Toe tag on the floor venomous speech
Rappers play pretend with the beats
Hit with the knife, goodnight
Then I send 'em to sleep nigga, General P
And the kit is like
The Confederate General Lee p!
The fist to your face Clay
Muhammad Ali shaking
Fist full of chips grated, gotta be P caking
Whimp you with Jim faking, gotta be P aping
I sell white rock, and clap canons
I'm old school like white
Rock soda and backgammon
Rap phantom, Sean is a starving artist
I gain a lot of weight
Cause a nigga eating regardless
You a target, and talk about bullseye
You a Target employee, a good guy
And ain't nothing wrong with that, nigga
Ain't nothing wrong with this
I make something strong with rap, nigga
And guess what, the nigga next up
He can't make a song for shit
P - mad smart, no Cornell West shit
But I can make death ring your doorbell next
Kid i told y'all I'm with the family, chill
Don't sleep, a phone call will
Get your family killed, p
Gotta be Sean gotta be who bodied the song
Cause Brownsville ill, gotta be on
Ruckus, you wrong
Gotta be - what the fuck is you on?
Popping pills
Chopping krills - what the fuck is you doing?
Gotta be the best rapper to spit it
Clap in a minute
Gotta let these niggas know who
Still actually live it, p
It gotta be P snapping
The fifth to your face, shake
I gotta be relapsing
Spit in your face, maybe gotta be P laughing
Gift from the eight? Great
It gotta be P clapping
I can't stand around you bitch niggas
Emph beam make your team steam
Like a fish dinner but the new shit burgandy
With new kicks straight from Munich, Germany
My net worth be making your neck jerk
Expert whenever, wherever the sket burst
The most fabulous flow
Yo, your whole shit dead
Toe tag on the floor venomous speech
Rappers play pretend with the beats
Hit with the knife, goodnight
Then I send 'em to sleep nigga, General P
And the kit is like
The Confederate General Lee p!