lirik lagu trump tight – aquasocks (rap)
[verse 1: aqua]
when it’s locked it’s a go, and i go all in these chains couldn’t keep a brother in a restriction. 4 kings, a challenge i can invest in. but there’s 1 me, only 2 hands and 2 feet, and 2 eyes but that’s going, my visions i can’t see. my sense is listen before you speak, that virtue is whack, who’s really paying attention? i wish the internet was flesh, so i can make it bleed. dead man wonderland. the games rigged, there’s nothing that we can do or say to change things* but keep talking. the more ones reminded of it they tend to do the same. and i know that there’s a purpose, rain water makes it the sky and comes down and resurfaces. there’s a cycle here, and we f*cking if up. we too worried bout trump faces and riot gear
[verse 2: ghettosocks]
looks like we bout to head on a mission that’s a head*on collision, so the rest ought to listen. mega*meal deal bout to get all the chicken, plus we out for the paper with those dead politicians. look, benjamin was never nominated president. i doubt you can read, f*ck postulating evidence. meanwhile, we automated genesis while whipping through sp*ce to the constellation pegasus. so tell me how ya noodle felt when the squad transformed ya brain to a tuna melt. who da h*ll sounds beautifuller than two adeles? you know well dude, it’s just business as usual. abracadabra* we took the back route to bring the raw back plus halifax too. the rhymes we clap are designed to blast truth and laser*remove trudeau’s haida tattoo
[verse 3: shevy price]
this a down*home halifax takeover, right? i’m still fly and connected like a layover flight. still connected like a gotta write in cursive to rap. you could never trump me with your alternative facts. you’ve been workin for scr*ps, and got the god d*mn nerve to hate on me for gettin paid to put together words. jealous, overzealous, petty, finicky chick. throwin stones from your glass is a rickity bridge. i’ma viciously spit ‘til i’m l!ckity split, and drop bombs* anyone in my vicinity hit. and if the good die young, then i’m counting the days. this little light of mine shining through a mountain of shade. better budget your days, ‘cause you’re stuck in your ways. treat your pride like a strap, baby* tuck it away. or just leave it at the door with your jacket and shoes. ya whole career minute maid, but you’re lackin the juice
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