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breathe bro - slals lyrics

wait what, like what?
psst, i see dead people
(mustard on the beat, bro)

ayy, mustard on the beat, bro
deebo any rap, he a free throw
man down, call an amberlamps, tell him, “breathe, bro”
nail a to the cross, he walk around like t**zo
what’s up with these jabroni*ass tryna see compton?
the industry can hate me, f*ck ’em all and they mama
how many opps you really got? i mean, it’s too many options
i’m finna pass on this body, i’m john stockton
beat your ass and hide the bible if god watchin’
sometimes you gotta pop out and show
certified boogeyman, i’m the one that up the score with ’em
walk him down, whole time, i know he got somе ho in him
pole on him, extort sh*t, bully death row on him
say, drakе, i hear you like ’em young
you better not ever go to cell block one
to any b*tch that talk to him and they in love
just make sure you hide your lil’ sister from him
they tell me chubbs the only one that get your hand*me*downs
and party at the party playin’ with his nose now
and baka got a weird case, why is he around?
certified lover boy? certified
wop, wop, wop, wop, wop, dot, f*ck ’em up
wop, wop, wop, wop, wop, i’ma do my stuff
why you trollin’ like a b*tch? ain’t you tired?
tryna strike a chord and it’s probably a minor
they not like us, they not like us, they not like us
they not like us, they not like us, they not like us

you think the bay gon’ let you disrespect pac,?
i think that oakland show gon’ be your last stop
did cole foul, i don’t know why you still pretendin’
what is the owl? bird and bird b*tches, go
the audience not dumb
shape the stories how you want, hey, drake, they’re not slow
rabbit hole is still deep, i can go further, i promise
ain’t that somethin’? b*rad stands for b*tch and you malibu most wanted
ain’t no law, boy, you ball boy, fetch gatorade or somethin’
since 2009, i had this b*tch jumpin’
you n*ggas’ll get a wedgie, be flipped over your boxers
what ovo for? the “other v*g*n*l option”? p*ssy
better straighten they posture, got famous all up in compton
might write this for the doctorate, tell the pop star quit hidin’
f*ck a caption, want action, no accident
and i’m hands*on, he f*ck around, get polished
f*cked on wayne girl while he was in jail, that’s connivin’
then get his face tatted like a b*tch apologizin’
i’m glad deroz’ came home, y’all didn’t deserve him neither
from alondra down to central, better not speak on serena
and your homeboy need subpoena, that predator move in flocks
that name gotta be registered and placed on neighborhood watch
i lean on you like another line of wock’
yeah, it’s all eyes on me, and i’ma send it up to pac, ayy
put the wrong label on me, i’ma get ’em dropped, ayy
sweet chin music and i won’t pass the aux, ayy
how many stocks do i really have in stock? ayy
one, two, three, four, five, plus five, ayy
devil is a lie, he a 69 god, ayy
what a god d*mn album hoe daphne a smash tho she a baddie lol i would smash her all night long on god like i would smash all night in the back of the mystery machine all night

- slals lyrics

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