Текст песни Intro - 101st.Place

Age eighteen, making music in the back of the trap GMC, writing lyrics, sounding stupid, we

Still in the same place, but the names are different
Skra and Skya came to life, a good life we're livin'

Different name, different sound, we just mess around
Blasting bohemian bangers bundled in this sweet sound

Still be crown driven and all over town spittin'
Tryna weave it all together like making a outfit and

We gon' wear it all proudly, "Fuck you" loudly
Bangers never bang so hard without me

Damn it I really be starvin and hungry
I came for dinner
I sprayed a milliliter of goo on the plate you filled up

You ate it all up
Just licking off the scraps, we ball up
The don, the caller
We picking all our shots and ballers

About the motion in the ocean, know that I can hack it
Filling with emotion groanin' more than you were filing taxes

Spillin' realtiy, hacking me, make this dream Abracadabra
Alla Kazam, "poof" turn into a life of lavish

Chop up, I be the col-dest cutter
Only talk "what?", I know there ain't no other
Got this and chop different, and I want listens tho
And I rock, rhythm's bobbin' when I get to flow

Chop up the flame, I'm the new thang
Fresh into the game, no range, fame or accolades
Counting up the change, same thing like in senior grade
Got my main bros and they know we kill everything, here them say

Change up the game like we givin' out coins
They keep the cash, cause I wanna spout poi-son and
Sound joyous and drown out all the noise
Skra and Skya keep it fresher than a pack of altoids

Bad boys, got the fresh breath, rep into the sets
Who's next? Liu Kang on they ass when they rest
No stress, just deliver, come hither we are the best
Kombatants in the arena, we beat the contest

I flow cold, but I got no fans
My heads spinnin' all around but I just got those plans
They can't see we got vision think they need ray bands
I'm outstanding, like I got kicked out of the van

Don't need the caravan, don't need me a hunnid grand
This sound that you hear expand, refill and re-kill your mans
We flowing like desert sands, our music is on demand
Long as you stay on the chann-el, we stay up making fans

Grovelin' talking look at the way that they riding the beat
Imma get honest man I don't think they could write it like me
Skra and then Skya again probably makin' them nod their heads
Then they realized who dropped the shit probably take the song off of repeat

Off of the beat, we off of our feet, up in the clouds
Often elite, we got in our seats, waiting for crowds to
Bop to this heat, no thought of defeat, time here is now
Reality, becoming our dream, and its all due to the