meltdown - swigga lyrics
l*swift ft. eddie brock * “meltdown”
[emcee(s): l*swift and eddie brock]
[producer(s): rich boogie]
[verse 1: l*swift]
i spit phenomenal sk!lls
yo, who guarding their grills and rip pages?
pardon my spills. ne flip it and mix phases
and spit gauges from right off of the trump tower
you get wet up in broad daylight like sunshowers
you still f*cking with gunpowder, you outdated
about facing, got n*ggas down in the south waiting ‘til
we get dough, and organize ‘til i’m three*six*o
yo, i only plant seeds that grow, support
when i’m higher. i know the toll down. we burn more trees
than forest fires, and even if you injured
you know the game. there’s so many things i overcame. i get
some novocain, numb my thoughts up but flow the same
as i always do. evacuate your apt
and your hallways too. i call a and voo. f*ck all them
n*ggas with phony titlеs, and peace to n*ggas in jail
reading thе holy bible. sh*t, my only rival
ain’t around no more. he on a milk*box, chilling
y’all n*ggas so old, your kids got children. get it now?
i use my weapon now, hit you with lead portions
for not rocking a vest all day like ed norton
[hook: eddie brock, (l*swift), and {both}]
{yo, it’s}
{a meltdown}. gather your sh*t, (go for self now)
l*swift, (eddie brock—sh*t), {so what the h*ll now?}
anything that we’re running to, we’re running through. yo, it’s
an overused cliché, but what you wanna do? ‘cause when we drop
you’ll wanna too. my crew be making fun of you, so, n*gga
what you wanna do? (nah, what you wanna do? i know)
(they look funny to me. they look funny to you?) so, n*gga
what you wanna do? (for real, what you wanna do?)
[verse 2: eddie brock]
see, i impregnate your brain
with thoughts you can’t abort. i get loose over hangers with the use
of abusive language conducive to anguish. don’t do
something dangerous—if you do, make sure your crew come with bangers
what? you wasn’t taught what can happen when you f*ck with strangers?
you might get noosed up by strangers. come on, don’t make that the way
you become famous. you need some sp*ce? i’ll be happy to place
my moon boots up ur*n*s ‘til you see constellations
putting your sh*t on hold like constipation, making your centerfold
from the magazines and the glock you facing
as a tool of confirmation to all the comp’ i’m facing. at any
connotations of conversations of my contemplating
the confrontation continues beyond the compilation
the combinations land on contact, collapse your concentration
counter*constructive to your congregating and con*
*spirational convocations. you’re testing who? mr. brock
a victor, conjurer of conjugations. see, considering all
these cons, there gotta be some pros—that’s where eddie brock and l*swift
serve their purpose to contrast with the worthless
give a consumer something worth the purchase, sn*tching the makeup
wigs, and red noses off of these clowns trying to make
the underground circuit surge into some sort of circus
a little from nothing to work with. y’all getting too much play
it’s time we stop and eject these rejects. two n*ggas
with a trigger reflex, northeast bx
[hook: eddie brock, (l*swift), and {both}]
{yo, it’s}
{a meltdown}. gather your sh*t, (go for self now)
l*swift, (eddie brock—sh*t), {so what the h*ll now?}
anything that we’re running to, we’re running through. yo, it’s
an overused cliché, but what you wanna do? if we drop
you’ll wanna too. my crew be making fun of you, so, n*gga
what you wanna do? (nah, what you wanna do? i know)
(they look funny to me. they look funny to you?) so, n*gga
what you wanna do? yo, what you wanna do?
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