Текст песни Dirty Broke Boys - Scorey

4TS shit
Uh

Hop back in the booth for a minute, (For a minute) uh
Let me tell the truth I been missin', uh (I be missin')
Thinkin' back to you, reminiscing (Reminiscing)
People tell me I been too in my feelings (My feelings)
But this rapper shit don't feel it
Most of these niggas really faking for a image (Fuck all of that)
And these bitches only looking for a ticket
Out the trenches (Out the trenches)
Way before Rolls-Royce we was in that Honda Civic (Honda Civic)
Just some dirty broke boys
Crazy part is how I miss it (How I miss it)

They say don't complain about this life, because I did it (Did that)
You can't tell me shit about this life cuz I livе it (Cuz I live it)
Some shooting stars rеally, this shit get hard really (Hard really)
This ain't no hard feelings, sometimes my heart empty, uh

Ain't no TikToks
I just want the music to speak for itself (Speak for itself)
I lost my wristwatch on tour, fuck delta hotels (Fuck)
They know wassup with all my boys, put shit on that shelf (Grraah)
They know these weapons ain't no toys
Get hit, you gon' melt (Block, block)
Don't need no steppers when alone, I step by myself (Step by myself)
Calling hits up on that phone
Write checks for his death (Checks for his death)
Go check him, he nailed, they left him, he bailed (Grraah)
All that rappin'
Take a look what he did for his self (Did for his self)
Fuck them niggas, lil bro spin and give everyone bell (Everyone bell)
Go to war with all the city, don't need no one help (Need no one help)
Seven-six for the shells (Bah), choppa hit him, he frail (Grraah)
We gon' pop up at your door, we delivering mail (Grr-rah)

They say don't complain about this life, because I did it (Did that)
You can't tell me shit about this life cuz I livе it (Cuz I live it)
Some shooting stars rеally, this shit get hard really (Hard really)
This ain't no hard feelings, sometimes my heart empty, uh

Fuck this rap shit, and fuck these rap niggas
Fuck these rap bugs, rap labels, all that shit
Niggas don't give a fuck about you 'til you dead or in jail
Tied to a niggas face

Hop back in the booth for a minute, (For a minute) uh
Let me tell the truth I been missin', uh (I be missin')
Thinkin' back to you, reminiscing (Reminiscing)
People tell me I been too in my feelings (My feelings)
But this rapper shit don't feel it
Most of these niggas really faking for a image (Fuck all of that)
And these bitches only looking for a ticket
Out the trenches (Out the trenches)
Way before Rolls-Royce we was in that Honda Civic (Honda Civic)
Just some dirty broke boys
Crazy part is how I miss it (How I miss it)