paroles de chanson Falcon Punch - Sam Rose

I'm in Atlanta with a bird no falcon
When I pull up to your city
You know the outcome
Out come, all the girls
Want the middle like Malcolm so how come
You moving on my turf
I sold the product
You wanna be a peddler
Maybe last shit didn't register
I've settled in, and you are just a visitor
You think you had a chance
Enjoy your spike while it lasts
I'm serving dinner and you're going hungry

But I'm not eating food that I made
Cuz my appetite is full from the hits that I make
But lately I've developed myself
A taste for snake so
I'll catch you in the grass and make
A Caesar salad for me today
What's left of you is
Keef to my blunt
I won't release you
I'm clean with the stunts
Don't dream of you
I stream to a runt
You believe its a front
Imma need a re-up
Imma make a lot
And it'll never seem enough
That's word to the function
Who allow with no assumption
My flows are an eruption
For casual consumption
Speakin' 'bout some tough shit
I heard you talkin' what's this
I ask you then, what's lit
Only spark it 'til its once lit
Once lit I be filling up my lungs quick
Speaking strictly I know you see me
Everywhere I go becomes my city
I might end it abruptly
But I'm always

I'm in Atlanta with a bird no falcon
When I pull up to your city
You know the outcome
Out come, all the girls
Want the middle like Malcolm so how come
You moving on my turf
I sold the product
You wanna be a peddler
I ain't worried about your meddling
Yeah, I got a clear mind
I can think of millions of ways
To spend my time
Maybe last shit didn't register
I've settled in, and
You are just a visitor
You think you had a chance
Enjoy your spike while it lasts
I'm serving dinner and you're going hungry

My last shit was funky
You caught me clowning like a monkey
Swinging from a vine every time
That I rhyme
Like a lamb' with the suicide
I'll be fine once I move past the crime
You blamed me for and took
My high school like a .44
Bitch, I am the door
Yeah, your bitch adore
Me
When you cum quick
Writing 'bout some dumb shit
Bringing up the homies so you know
I can run shit
The only crime I'll have is not
Even trying shit
I paved my own lane with concrete blunt
Call it a high-way
At the end I'll be Sinatra
Do it My Way
Unless you wanna get got
Better get out my way
You can't keep on the dotted
So I better not sign
I'll create my own department
I'm departed