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lirik lagu scroll cypher – fidi (producer)

[part 1: sinizter]
argh, i’ma f*ck the beat up gettin’ lit tho (what?)
talkin’ all my sh*t, i throw a fit though (yeah)
throw a hunnid punches with some elbows (ah)
turn that p*ssyboy into a van gogh (yuh)
lookin’ like el chapo when i roll up (b*tch)
gold ak, got that thang tucked (yuh)
couple bad b*tches wanna hook up (yeah)
and sinny divin’ in i go face up (what?)
scroll be the gang, scroll be the gang, scroll be the gang, b*tch (yeah)
scroll be the gang, scroll be the gang, scroll be the gang, b*tch

[part 2: daegho]
hanging out the window of the f*cking 2 seater
we juggin’ and jumpin’, i pull up with that nina
aiming for the legs, make him dance, macarena
we drinking and smokin’ upon the gasolina
b*tch, i’m the porko grim reaper
boy, better pay for that feature
crazy, loco, insane
yeah, you gon’ feel this heat like a fever
p*ssy mo’f*cker
you testin’ your luck
and i can’t stand when people be talkin’, not walking
i pop him
i drop him
i’m breakin’ his noggin’
my fist to his face, like i’m at his door knockin’, like
“h*llo? f*ck you”
[part 3: prompto]
p*ssed off, ’boutta ignite with the quickdraw
tell ’em “do not move a muscle or i’ll have it ripped raw”
woah, cannot embark on this flow
drowning in a cemetery buried with my bones
explode, get blasted away
taste my knuckles when they bleed in the rain
erase, let me ease all the pain
b*tch, shut the f*ck up
you been nonstop talkin’ ya mouth off, getting lockjaw
’boutta break it down
and i cannot stop
pennywise like a clock
savings to the max, looks like i save*a*lot
spitting these bars, like a w*lly wonka candy shop
guess i don’t miss, nah
shootin’ for the 3, i swished, yah
i make these hits, yah
b*tch, i’m playing my tricks, yah

[part 4: mvko]
p*ssys keep runnin’ their mouth
but i ain’t hearin no sound
thinking you know my life, you don’t know sh*t (b*tch)
sayin’ my music gon’ fail, sayin’ i’ll never prevail
burn another bridge, you watch the ship, it gon’ sail
your just f*ckin’ mad that you wasted your life
you didn’t have a dream or a creative bone in your body
so you waste your time behind a desk
you took a moment and saw me doing what i wanted
and the first thing you thought was “f*ck that guy”
sorry, i’m making money doing things that i want to (oh)
if you got a problem, get hit with the one*two
i’ma do my thing
you won’t think that it’s funny when i pull up on you in a brand new whip wit a sunroof
b*tch, i told you i don’t play (nah)
peekin’ over my shoulder, i came a long way (yuh)
ak47, send a p*ssy to heaven
it’s off with a p*ssy head, now he buried in his early grave
[part 5: kylof söze]
i do the dash
she f*ck with me ’cause i’m getting this cash
i’m getting this bread
(fidi on the track)
f*ckin’ a b*tch and she givin’ me head
you stepping to me, then you finna be dead, aye
i just be wilding
even when i was a jit, i was styling
now i be stacking this paper like staples
coping designer, i love me stone island
b*tch, i be feeling invincible, hop on a beat with the boys like some criminals, aye
making this money be integral, bang bro cypher might f*ck on your princ*p*l, aye
we just be running this sh*t like a marathon, b*tch i don’t really give a f*ck what you say
stepping to us then we leaving you dust, if you talking that sh*t we gone spit in your face

[part 6: blake basic]
flow so sick like covid
yeah, the way i move so smooth, like lotion
i’ve been close to overdosing
but i made it through, i’m the true one chosen
i’ve been broken hearted, hopeless
nothing else to do, i just gotta stay focused
scroll gang got me at my lowest
gotta stay true and you gonna be noticed
all the ladies wanna date me
money in the bank, so they want my babies
smooth like the lake, i’m cool so wavy
but i split flames, so hot like hades
people throw shade, but they ain’t tom brady
f*ckin’ with blake, you fake, you shady
okay, lately i been going crazy
working everyday, like f*ck, you pay me, aye
you got a problem? you better come solve it
i’m sick of the people that typing and talking
you better just stop it or i’ll get stomping
you wanna be me ’cause you think that i’m ballin’
you know that i’m popping, it’s true that i got it
you run up on me and get blocked, dennis rodman
blake basic’s a prophet, i make the deposits
i walk in the bank with a blade in my pocket
[part 7: sugs]
i like to smoke piff and trance in my room
i like to break ribs and vandalize dudes
i like a tight b*tch, who have the right moves
i enter my d*ck, then dance in her womb
i scream “eat the rich and fry the tycoons”
ain’t no time to die, i lied, the time noon
’cause twelve gauge defile and redefine you
and now what was inside you is out too
i’ma run out da store with like two bags
think i ain’t the man, i bet ya snortin’ up meth
lookin’ for a knuckle, he get four in that head
talk sh*t, get hit, classic cause and effect
and that sl*t tryna f*ck, sent code in the text
all my kids she gon’ suck, abort in her neck
ran a lap round her track, then ran to the next
act fast break glass, sh*t cold as it gets

[part 8: oni inc]
[to be transcribed]

[part 9: ethan ross]
wait, wait, hold up (yeah, yeah)
i was like, yeah, hold up
my opps like in a p*wn in a chess game, ominous just saying
i’m to the next lane, armed with best
staying calm and direct with a palm full methane
if he ever try to do me wrong, with the net claim
just to get a couple minutes long full of web fame
i’ma go and run up on his lawn, with a tech pain
better want smoke, this bong give him chestpain (aye)
hollow tips rip through his sh*t, leave him hollowed out
put fifty blades in his guts, leave ’em fallin’ out, b*tch

[part 10: xelishurt]
[to be transcribed]

[part 11: mobbs radical]
i am the warlord, you get a backhand
she get her back broke over the stand
i got the pack, so f*ck what it go for
lucid my visuals off of the xan, aye
look at the, look at the wrist
radiance glowing, i’m feeling light (god d*mn)
out with a ski and it’s feeling right
can’t see my face, like i’m meta night
grisha militia, we f*ck you up
n*gga, we rolling a double dutch
barrel my pistol you had enough
sidewinder missile, we in the cut
look at my heaven receding oh
bans always waiting don’t leave me cold
scheming, like whisper aletheo
shoutout my brothers, like really though?

[part 12: 8cxrpses]
hungry for murder, like an mre ration
homicidal ideation, f*ck the population
fiends for attention, so much desperation
lack of sophistication, rampant indoctrination
humans are craven disposition fabrication
more callous then my fathers suffocation

[part 13: downfvll]
[to be transcribed]

- fidi producer

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