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cloth talk. - remy banks lyrics

[verse 1: goya gumbani]
not even the speakers tell the truth
i was handling the fumes while they was panicked in the room
standing on the stoop clutching a hammer and some fruits
don’t talk about the crew and think tomorrow we gon be cool
really they confused
you gotta show em how to move
slide through in some horsebit loafers goya be that dude
beans bring the profit he gon knock it when it due
lock it in like screws
from the fifth floor i peep em sniffin for them f*cking clues likе…
why the sudden the distancеs between me and the truth
digging up the roots
peep a n*gga standard by the way he keep his shoes
stop the staggering
n*ggas on the wrong time
i’m on to…
i’m on to managing
i’m on to…

[verse 2: lojii]
clarks on the bricks
my mind be on lift
posted in a 1 of 1 fit
i got it from the thrift
i found some rare gems in the trenches
had to sift thru them
i hopped off the porch
and started learning how to flip
on these streets it’s way too easy
to get got before you get to it
i’m focused on the bigger option
bigger moves, bigger music
free biggavelli
if you really want to get into it
you can hear the influence
since back in ’06
now i’m back to get the bag
and get it back again
pray my back stay against the wind
i ain’t caught up on the gossip
i was contemplating wins
big ends, don’t know where to begin
and if i did i wouldn’t tell it
most you hoes is pr*ne to snitch, hatin’
when i rap, it ain’t to flex
it’s purely for the motivation
still waiting on my payment
on your bumper, know you hate it
i got it for the low
so your price is overrated
so your price is overrated
[verse 3: remy banks]
the flyest in every room i step
through the shadows i crept
my presence loud but i’m quiet as kept
the shine modest like the rubies on my neck
i never acted outta pocket for respect
i’m fortunately blessed
since my youth, my mother draped me in the best
9 years young running around with a avirex
had the red joint that year, then a black one for the next
then we got older moved onto vansons and steep techs
i swear to christ yo
these n*ggas wish they was my competition
a lot of things they brag about i’ve done in repetition
playa listen
mysterious i’m like a superstition
i feel the tension
as y’all clowns get finicky
when the names is mentioned
they can’t replicate what’s taking place
so take a seat
pressure heavy like i’m moving weight
this sh*t ain’t for the weak
the styles rare as some jordan 10’s with the toe cap
smoking on some haze in a dutch
call that a throwback

- remy banks lyrics

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