lirik lagu 100 races – mackned
[intro: slava mane]
shit, i’m talkin’, i’m skeet
[verse 2: mackned, faces and slava mane]
no meaning, ned on the scene
me i flex, baby take me, i flex to bring the team in
i flex with t’cho, she only nineteen
comin’ late to the show (skeet), yeah i’m boomin’ on the scene
some of these n-gg-s don’t like me (skeet), i do it everyday (wow)
she always tryna’ f-ck me, now i put the thing away (n-gg-)
young bands on me, make a silly hoe faint (faint)
young construction mack until i make my own lane (wow)
catch a young n-gg- flashin’ when the b-tch ain’t straight (skeet)
tryna’ keep my cool, and i’m just tryna’ keep my cake (bread)
yeah my b-tch a mellow blunt, let the worries fade away
give a n-gg- yellow syrup, i’mma show you somethin’
i’mma show you some new, yeah the molly pink flame (skeet)
i don’t pop this shit no mo’ ‘cus i’m too ratchet wit’ the dank (oh, f-ck! )
everyday’s a game, no serotonin in my brain (wow)
rap game excalibur, i feel like arthur (swag)
shoot a n-gg- some, yeah, i’m a trap archer (swag)
build a n-gg- high, ‘cus b-tch i’m the author (author)
i look great, but i glowed when saw her (when i saw her)
she a hundred races, her genes work harder (wow, thraxx, skeet)
[bridge: mackned and slava mane]
skeet, skeet, skeet, skeet
i said my b-tch a hundred races, her genes work harder
skeet, skeet, skeet, skeet
my b-tch a hundred races, her genes way smarter
skeet, skeet, skeet, skeet
my b-tch a hundred races, her genes work harder
skeet, skeet, skeet, skeet
i said my b-tch a hundred races, her genes way smarter
[verse 2: faces, slava mane and cyber-god]
my b-tch a hundred races, her genes work harder (workin’ hard)
you should probably bench your hoe, ‘cus i roll wit’ a starter (first)
n-gg-s want me dead for that? well, i’mma die a martyr (yeah)
thraxxhouse, you can feel the energy we harbour (skrrt)
packed to the nose, got the lean for the pour, little green for the smoke and my b-tch (okay)
witchcraft baby with the black fingernails, tell me: “h-ll yeah face god, i’m ready for the trip” (i’m ready, uh!)
c-ke babygirl out here tryna’ finesse, she keep the mini thang tucked, and the knife in her dress (uh! oo)
fangs in her mouth, glow with success (uh!)
house smell like ammonia, h-lla blow on the desk (uh!)
but that’s the babygirl so i do it off her chest (uh!)
i’m buckin’ at these n-gg-s out here that are tryna’ test (brr, brr, oo)
got my bucket in my b-tch, yeah i’m ’bout to flex (skrrt, uh!)
“god mode to my death” and it’s tatted on my chest (skrrt, uh!)
my b-tch a hundred races, so it’s pointless to chase her (no, uh!)
genes work harder, baby show me what that brain does (not here, uh!)
kiss me on the neck, so the ice in my vein melts (uh!)
she look like a goddess, but she acts how the rain felt (uh!)
faces
[outro: cyber-god]
uh!
uh! oo
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