are you listening? - saints (tx) lyrics
[hook: elie andrews]
i’ma have ’em on a rout out the back of this b*tch
i’m a legend from the south, call me atticus finch
50 ks in my trunk, dodging tax, and tips
2 gs in my blunt, packing fat, no spliffs
and i only smoke loud, so i know y’all listening
saints going all out, meeting no resistance
fake diamonds glistening, so iconic
always so ironic, how your middle name christian!?
[verse 1: elie andrews]
no fans, stressed ’bout bands
call me elie fantastic how i stretch out grams
steady spitting pristine wit, brilliant jams
take me back to 16, going silly off xans
that was real sh*t, real scripts, pillies i could still flip
always took the p*ss out of life, now i k!ll sh*t
spreading out my weed, double trees like a hilton
sh*t was elementary, b*tch, shout out wilmeth
18, spinning webs, looking pete parker
elie always outta funds like a kickstartеr
vyvanse on my tongue, sh*t was six dollars
had to take anothеr tums, make it hit harder
21, my b*tch bad, my ass fat
need the type of trip to give flashbacks from back cracks
level up my diction, syntax to brass tacks
mosin on my hip, let the clip clang then clack clack
get ’em running fast out the back of this b*tch
i got the stone cold nuts, i’m just stacking my chips
why they act like rapping hard? got me laughing and sh*t
steady writing out bars like i’m scratching an itch
[bridge: elie andrews]
and i’ll say it real loud so i know y’all listening
all you clout chasing clowns got me f*cking sickened
i don’t even want fame, give a f*ck ’bout a plaque
if your sh*t don’t bang, get the f*ck off my track!
[verse 2: elie andrews]
done being real, i’ma spit faux pas
got opps in the streets yelling oh my god
with they pockets empty and they wrists so clogged
that’s my f*cking pet peeve if you ain’t tipped off
not talking paychecks when i say it don’t make sense
your bank statements ain’t match your bracelets
your soul lookin’ poor, baby stop and face it
ya ain’t gotta make more, you just gotta fake less
[hook: elie andrews]
and run your dumbass out the back of this b*tch
know i’m a legend from the south, call me atticus finch
50 ks in my trunk, dodging tax, and tips
2 gs in my blunt, packin’ fat, no spliffs
and i only smoke loud, so i know y’all listening
saints going all out, meeting no resistance
fake diamonds glistening, so iconic
always so ironic, how ya middle name christian!?
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