Songtext zu ' Byron G (feat. Domo Genesis & Scott Caan) ' von Step Brothers

Y'all might as well get the music ready cos this is finna take a while

And I've been working on this thing
They've told me about humble... humbleness, humility
Um, I don't like it
It doesn't feel natural
But I hear it works for a lot of celebrities and brings them a long way when they act like they don't deserve things
And now I'd like to thank people at the label who i know like: Rob Pasco (Rob Pasco) and Matt Voss and Byron G (Byron G)

I give a fuck who's who, I chef the same when I'm preparing it
From bad kid to semi-rich middle-aged American
Rooted in my heritage, wounded for the derelicts
The root of every evil is the truth of all appearances
I crack the sound but the beat is still a barrier
And every fucking inch of every street around this area
The Venice carry us up like dough rises
Rap transit all city, no license
The city is beneath, I watch it from a bird's eye
Brain dead, two left, they shot me in my third eye
Shot out my eye like BB guns up on a Christmas day
Reach for pistols as I watch the fuckin' Pistons play
I set the tone with the writings on the wall
The city cleans it up like we inviting 'em all
Evolution's all messed up now, chop the middleman
Stab the messenger, not the literal
I ran without a cause and was the best before I knew shit
Before I took a cruise ship, before I been to Houston
I ain't tying up loose ends I let 'em waiver
Pulling out these lavers and pounding out the pavement
Gone

I'm the lyrical gangsta

I be a young motherfucker of the rap camp
Style symbolizes my nastiness like a tramp stamp
Wamp wamp, where it's at
Fear fact, just let them legends die and I'll inherit that
I'm fit for the carry, weight of the world I carriage on my back
With a fairer sack, inquisitions to the mirror
Exactly what niggas fearing, see the future in its clearest
It is I, Doms, dropping lyrical pipe bombs
Until an icon, I choke your life like a python
I'm who the children look up, probably got 'em doing kush ups
Super high, call me Superfly, bitch I'm Jimmy Snuka
Got you feeling like you took a hit of heroin
And that's for veterans, the way I bury 'em, embarrassing
You know better than puttin' that fire near the kerosine
I said don't make me tell again like kids with speech impediments
They can't see where my head is, I'm ahead
Roll the credits, roll the medics
Getting high till I feel I'm copacetic

I'm the lyrical gangsta

Yo I've been trying to keep it silent, my tendency to violence
The suit and tie be fading, the truth about the shining
The sliding through the masses, smiling eyes through glasses
My style been altercated all the while to pile my cash in
But fuck that though, I want a ho that stay up late
My dirty bottom bitch to fuck with me until the wake
Mad illegal C.R.E.A.M, ain't no rules, that's the dream
In regal swimming pools, prepping tools for future schemes
Laying low and creeping it, selling dope and sleeping it
Wrap the dough up in a rope, keep in what I'm sleeping in
Mattress fettucini, life's a flick and I'm Fellini
Pinky diamond rings above the rims of ice martinis
Trees throughout the day, hour focused in a haze
We living life the most, been comatosed all the way
The toast to hell that may, cause making bread legit's too real
So I'm folding on the stress of life to steal to catch a meal

I'm the lyrical gangsta

And I've been working on this thing
They've told me about humble... humbleness, humility
Um, I don't like it
It doesn't feel natural
But I hear it works for a lot of celebrities and brings them a long way when they act like they don't deserve things
And now I'd like to thank people at the label who i know like: Rob Pasco and Matt Voss and Byron G...

Wankland Audio presents... Paul and the Magical Sleigh Bell, Part 1

It was a cold and stormy night when the one young Paul sat scouring by the fire light; composing away. It was another Christmas. The carolers outside his window sang with glee as they rode by in a sleighbell that created a sound that was so magnificent that Paul ran to the window
This sound, I must capture it, but how?
He set about to scour the land in search for the most resilient and brilliant of sleigh bells. His father said he'd lost his marbles
Paul, I'm your father. You've lost your marbles
But no... young Paul, steadfast in his ways, travelled the land far and wide, capturing the sound of every sleigh bell he could. He travelled... oh the might!