Текст и перевод песни SPARTAN RAGE - God Lvl

God Lvl

Ruthless Poet Gang presents
(This dat fight music alright)
FIGHT MUSIC

Brrrrr

Death stare kaafi mera nazre hai kaatil
Peeche chode launde tere nazro mein car tail
Shootout karu tere ladko ka cartel
Pull up karu shehr tere bande leke chaalis
Red leather jacket mai Tyler Durden
Hive ke andar Earl Sweatshirt daali side ke button
Band na karta fight ke club uh
Aur ginta na life ke fuck up
(Aur ginta na life ke fuck up?)
Bandooke kaafi lekin licence hai na
Mushkil ni hype mein rehna
Par mushkil hai sabkuch karke bhi side pe baithna
Tabhi niklu mai raat aadhi saadko
Gaandfaadi bando ki jo baat taali
Tere pure crew ki rakhe baitha jaankaari
Goli maari aankh mein toh launda bana gaandhari
Goli maari laat mein toh launda kabhi bhaag nahi
Bori bhari 2 kyuki kaati maine laash aadhi
Ek galat harkat tere haath pair gayab karde
Puch pehle walo se yaha varte bande saavdhaani
Marte bande jaan pyaari tu bhi bhaag ja
Kabza karni Raajdhaani, Ludhiana
Se mai khudi aata, teri budhiya ka
Phone khudi aata, aur mai so ni paata
I don't do this shit Teri groupie bitch
Mere lund pe baithke kehti "oo we lit"
God level shit lagu ceasar
Kaatu tere mob ties scissors
Do latina karti scissor
Spanish sicarrio kehta "Si Sir"
Motorboat seas par
Mode mera geeked up
2 lambi gaadi kare peecha
Final form mein lagu frieza
3 tapli pade tere teen tal
Seize karna scene Aaj
Pairi pauna krta ni mai jhuk ke baandhu feeta
Bolta tu zada lage Paul Heyman
Tera papa mujhe Don kehta
Dur tak goli chale short barrel
Bande sunne mere gaane kehte God Level
SPARTAN RAGE
ONCE AGAIN

God Lvl

Ruthless Poet Gang presents
(This is that fight music, alright?)
FIGHT MUSIC

Brrrrr

My death stare's intense, my gaze is deadly, girl
I leave those other guys behind, they're like car oil in your eyes
I'll shoot up your boys' cartel
I'll pull up in your city with forty men
In my red leather jacket, I'm Tyler Durden
Inside the Hive, Earl Sweatshirt's on the side buttons
I don't stop the fight clubs, uh
And I don't count life's fuck ups
(And I don't count life's fuck ups?)
Got plenty of guns, but no license
It's not hard to stay hyped
But it's hard to sit back after doing everything
That's why I'm out at midnight on the streets
Of those assholes who talk big
I have information on your whole crew, girl
Shot you in the eye, now you're blind like Gandhari
Shot you in the leg, now you'll never run
The bag's heavy, 2 kilos, because I chopped a body in half
One wrong move and your limbs are gone
Ask the previous ones, people here act with caution, babe
People die, life is precious, you should run too
Taking over the capital, Ludhiana
I come from there myself, your grandma's
Phone keeps ringing, and I can't sleep
I don't do this shit, your groupie bitch
Sits on my dick saying "oo we lit"
God level shit, I feel like Caesar
I cut your mob ties like scissors
Two Latinas are scissoring
Spanish sicario says "Si Sir"
Motorboat on the seas
My mode is geeked up
Two long cars are chasing me
I feel like Frieza in his final form
Three slaps landed on your three floors
Seizing the scene today
I don't bow down and tie your shoelaces, darling
You talk too much, you sound like Paul Heyman
Your dad calls me Don
The bullet travels far, short barrel
People hear my songs and say God Level
SPARTAN RAGE
ONCE AGAIN