lirik lagu never (gangstafied) – finesse2tymes
[intro]
(scalez)
[verse 1: finesse2tymes]
we live in a life of crime (crime), lies (lies), deceit (deceit), disloyalty (disloyalty)
fake n*ggas f*cked up the streets with all this poison (ayy, this fake sh*t)
anything pop out (what?), motherf*ckers recordin’ it (that’s crazy)
broke b*tches choicy (huh?), d*mn, my mama warned me (yeah, she told me)
d*mn, i should’ve listened (sh*t)
d*mn, i should’ve listened (f*ck)
three days ago, i found out my young n*gga snitchin’ (that’s crazy)
takin’ care of my kids, baby mama still b*tchin’ (b*tchin’)
broke n*ggas trickin’, spinnin’, fallin’ in they feelings
goin’ head first, purse first, ass last
get the bread first (let me gеt that)
i’m the boss, i’m the king, i get fеd first (me)
you run it up, they lock you up, give you a fed shirt (that’s f*cked up)
that’s how the feds work (that’s how it go)
we in a lose, lose (lose) situation, gotta face it (gotta face it)
go get your money (go get it)
you gon’ get caught procrastinatin’ (for real)
you playin’ k!ller (stop), but gon’ get k!lled for perpetratin’ (for real)
i’ll body one of these n*ggas, but that’s just too much information (can’t say that)
same gang (same), same n*ggas, same hitters with me (same)
same choppers (choppers), f*ck the feds, got my pistols with me
do a bid (do it), never talk, show your paperwork (shh)
and ‘fore you start beefin’ with a n*gga, get some paper first (get some paper first)
fifty k on firearms (on firearms), million in bond money (in bond money)
don’t give a f*ck ’bout a show (why?), i got the bomb comin’ (i got the bomb comin’)
i’m tryna f*ck megan thee stallion (why?), make her by bottom ho (my bottom ho)
you need to f*ck with some pimpin’ (with some pimpin’)
come hit the lotto, ho (come hit the lotto, ho)
i just landed on a private lear, jumped in a maybach (jumped in a maybach)
subliminal ass rappers, you don’t like me, n*gga, say that
they like, “he went to the feds and got back out,” that n*gga snitchin’
mad ’cause i got out and ran it up, n*gga, quit b*tchin’ (b*tch*ass n*gga)
[interlude: b.g.]
ooh, finesse, what’s up, homie?
you know i felt that sh*t all in my soul, man (all in there)
you know real n*ggas do real things, man, these n*ggas ain’t livin’ like us (at all)
look
[verse 2: b.g.]
i went from designer clothes and f*ckin’ hoes (to what?)
to khaki suits, noodles and rice bowls (uh*huh)
from gettin’ dough and rockin’ shows
to pullin’ my d*ck off, pictures of naked hoes (i pulled off)
man, the boy was drove, miss my life on the road
couldn’t complain to my celly (at all), he had life with no parole (parole)
they caught me with a knife, did thirty days in the hole
and on top of that, they sent me into the motherf*ckin’ smooth
my kids were steady growin’ (growin’), hoes steady hoein’ (hoein’)
my n*gga boosie went home and my dog was steady blowin’ (blowin’)
my n*gga weezy steady tourin’, but he’s a b*tch and it’s showin’ (showin’)
i’m still a livin’ legend, don’t act like you didn’t know it
but they had my hands tied, caught up on that chain gang
just like on the streets, all through the pen, you know my name rang
my rep’s solid (solid), name good (good)
paperwork right, i’m gucci (i’m gucci)
i done done it all, you know my life’s a f*ckin’ movie, n*gga
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