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black guys in france - gdp lyrics

[verse 1: gdp]

f-ck a throwback jam, i’m a grown -ss man
that’ll still flash on you like a bone graft scan
when they be like “oh, slangcorp – i know that band”
but i’ll sh-t all on your hood like i own that land
soul survivor, survivor sole
you can lamborghini mercy all them lies you’ve sold but
lord have mercy my time’s so close
i can smell it in the air and i feel it in my bones
you see it on my face and you hear it in my flows all the
pain in my voice and the rage in my foes, we
life without parole controversial
yall rather sell raps for bud light commercials and
light the purple, but b-tch you ain’t cam’ron
you ain’t a a&r, you just put your man on
black guys in france changing tampons
slangcorp run a f-cking train on your grandma
g iller than a suge knight/russ simmons posse cut
who else on the track? probably puff
like if the blunt’s laced – probably dust
and if i ain’t get back about your beats its cause it probably sucks
and i’m sorry but
i’m commandeering vehicles like dmx. party up!
with some gnarly sl-ts
shorty -ss so big the car door could hardly shut
what a rap martyr does – eat your f-cking ghostwriter bars for lunch
e-z widers, cigars and blunts
smoking loud pack got tar for lungs, succ-mb
i moved to brooknam cause that’s where the b-tches is at
them naive b-tches all p-ssed at their dad
like is it me or just as his staff
yall only talk hard on an internet chat
ya girl a bird – yeah a chicken in fact
she gets stole like yogi bear’s picnic basket
kids’ll get blasted, kicks’ll get ran quick
g get daps for his infinite raps…shiiiiatt

it’s nothin, it’s easy, i close my eyes and just…f-ckin i just do it
that’s my sh-t though

[verse 2: gdp]
f-ck a throwback at noon, g’ll roll back your crew
verbal abuse’ll beat your soul black and blue, uh
soul survivor, survivor sole
motherf-ck an email dog see me at a show with them rhymes you stole
from my lines and no-
i ain’t spittin on your album ‘less you signed at dough
i left philly cause the streets was kinda chilly
with sleaze kinda filthy all this e is trying to k!ll me but i doubt that
sour diesel and loud pack
vomit over dubstep beats and now you found trap
eating off my scr-ps like how’s that?
black guys, paris in flames, yeah – douse that

f-ck it, no one’s f-ckin with me this year
no one’s f-ckin with me this year on some emcee sh-t
i promise, i swear to god
gdp – it comes easy to me, the sh-t comes easy to me
excuse my french but i’m in new york
(he’s a monster)

- gdp lyrics

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