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lirik lagu we want smoke – radio killed the hip-hop star

let me tell y’all somethin that you might not know
all you rappers dropping tracks, will not ever blow
claiming jersey is your home but it really don’t show
i be putting jersey on like my first name joe
it’s cute how you rep, claiming you the best
but take it from a vet with real fans out west
rappin bout d*ck makes you sound like a wh0re
doesn’t anybody make real sh*t anymore?

all y’all little top fives but you know we come first
we gon’ bury you alive and that’s why we dug dirt
b*tch we giving y’all the smoke, take it till your lungs hurt
all you think you’re hitmakers but you’re just a yung berg
i describe all you rappers only using one word
that’s clout*chasers, our sounds greater, annihilate you
feed a clip and a slip in the mouth of a foul hater
k!llin y’all on a track, ricky bobby in talladega

it’s getting to be so upsetting to me
seeing b*tches getting hyped cause they s*xy to see
but if we speak lyrically, y’all ain’t sh*t next to me
y’all been hot for one summer i’m going on my 15th
i’m smoking the mic, no deuce, no cut
y’all sh*t’s processed, i’m pure, uncut
only reason y’all lit is cause your clips show your tits
now your page getting hits cause your fans have d*cks
we the type of crew don’t give a f*ck about your instagram
i don’t give a f*ck about support, i got a different plan
tying rappers up, haul’em off in a minivan
like turning exxon to a sewer, you think your sh*t is gas?
you’re weak and soft, you think you be the god?
i’ll bleed you raw, my ether thoughts is what i’m feeding y’all
i do it for the people that i lost, they sent me
gemini shoot hollows, you spitters just spray envy

i told y’all before, ima tell y’all again
2019 was the last year to make friends
i did this on my own and i don’t own y’all sh*t
so don’t hit me up this year for a verse or a hit b*tch

rkthhs, we already told y’all, we the mothaf*ckin best
if you’re gonna spit back, better do it with your chest
we the king and the queen when it come to playing chess
yo you wanna bring the smoke? how high? red and meth
rkthhs, we already told y’all, we the mothaf*ckin best
if you’re gonna spit back, better do it with your chest
we the king and the queen when it come to playing chess
yo you wanna bring the smoke? how high? red and meth
rkthhs, we already told y’all, we the mothaf*ckin best b*tch

i got my own homie posting ever other rapper
while i put in more work then they showed up after
i’m sending this to q, i f*ck with dre miller and you know ali
but you knew me way before you made the choice to be a rapper
and speaking of these rappers, giving them ak’s for not hopping on a track verse
motherf*ck a turkish*royale, put him in the dirt and soil
you can’t have a show at stanhope without the f*cking man hoe
i let y’all slide by for way too long
you call yourself feminem but put out the same songs
creativity is lacking, you’re better off acting
this b*tch’s wild don’t come out till it’s lights, camera, action

look they give you fake gas just to match that fake ass

well i guess a lot of people are gon’ be mad at us
maybe finally they’ll rap and get back at us
maybe now they’ll finally get up on a track with us
nah, f*ck that, i would never let’em rap with us
i tell’em now if they respond, their careers gon’ be done
if they want it they can have it, shoot’em down one by one
i got blood on my hands, no regretting what i’ve done
jersey blood in our veins, never hiding where we from

- radio killed the hip hop star

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