Jack Krowd - TALK TO ME
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Calm down, keep your coldness, stay sober
We are dogs, but not every dog is homeless
Gettin’ ready for the gold name I gon’ posses
Who said I can’t rap, my word isn’t spoken, okay
You dropped few albums, but you have said nothing new
You need a rest, otherwise you’ll get overdue
My words are bullets in your ears, I let them shoot
But bullets can’t get to your brain, they stay misunderstood
I gotta put me in the streets to get permission to make rap
Gotta be relative of rappers to dеserve fucking respеct
You know it’s difficult, I gotta try to get these ladies wet
We must be quiet I the lyrics, 'cause we don’t wanna regret
He is 6’5, she is 6’1
She saw money, went 3’9
This is her last lifeline
It’s not despair, she likes that
We can appreciate this lust
Let’s mix it with the drinks and highs
Do your really enjoy this life?
Fuck cancel culture, they too sensitive to words
They take offence at what I told
They take offence at all my thoughts
Might uncle future help me how to hold the sword
It may outweigh me on the cold
We getting money, we want more
Respect my opinion, I’m a speaker, I ain’t doer
Im gon’ need congratulations, and I’m goin' to need Boomin (Metro)
From beat to beat like travelling, I call my album booking
I know they wasn’t waiting, but I came to spite to cook it
They come and go, little, we know how works society
If people love you they forgive if your name is Carti
We ran outta the bees in flower boy, we borrow them from Cardi
I accept Ye, but I’m still lovin’ Kanye
I want honey bun, on a hundred bands
I want hundred bands, on a hundred beds
I want hundred bedrooms, in a fucking mansion
Want it for my ego, I want Thug to mention
We gon’ be somebody, little, just remember
Enjoy the sun, it disappearing by December
We know the rules, we get attention, we get paper
But we might get it later, we might not take it
Give me your pain if you want
Give me the rage ASAP
Let it bang, I show the power
Don’t give a damn, you know it’s ours
Real rappers, fake women, real rappers
Fake rappers, fake homies, fake rappers
Lit rappers, hype tracks, geeked rappers
Lil’ rappers usually big rappers
Getting, getting high, homie, talk to me
Get in, get in love, baby, talk to me
Getting, getting far, momma, talk to me
Gonna see the sun, somebody, talk to me
Music is my diary
Hope you knew the answer
We gon’ be somebody
We won’t be together
We are dogs, but not every dog is homeless
Gettin’ ready for the gold name I gon’ posses
Who said I can’t rap, my word isn’t spoken, okay
You dropped few albums, but you have said nothing new
You need a rest, otherwise you’ll get overdue
My words are bullets in your ears, I let them shoot
But bullets can’t get to your brain, they stay misunderstood
I gotta put me in the streets to get permission to make rap
Gotta be relative of rappers to dеserve fucking respеct
You know it’s difficult, I gotta try to get these ladies wet
We must be quiet I the lyrics, 'cause we don’t wanna regret
He is 6’5, she is 6’1
She saw money, went 3’9
This is her last lifeline
It’s not despair, she likes that
We can appreciate this lust
Let’s mix it with the drinks and highs
Do your really enjoy this life?
Fuck cancel culture, they too sensitive to words
They take offence at what I told
They take offence at all my thoughts
Might uncle future help me how to hold the sword
It may outweigh me on the cold
We getting money, we want more
Respect my opinion, I’m a speaker, I ain’t doer
Im gon’ need congratulations, and I’m goin' to need Boomin (Metro)
From beat to beat like travelling, I call my album booking
I know they wasn’t waiting, but I came to spite to cook it
They come and go, little, we know how works society
If people love you they forgive if your name is Carti
We ran outta the bees in flower boy, we borrow them from Cardi
I accept Ye, but I’m still lovin’ Kanye
I want honey bun, on a hundred bands
I want hundred bands, on a hundred beds
I want hundred bedrooms, in a fucking mansion
Want it for my ego, I want Thug to mention
We gon’ be somebody, little, just remember
Enjoy the sun, it disappearing by December
We know the rules, we get attention, we get paper
But we might get it later, we might not take it
Give me your pain if you want
Give me the rage ASAP
Let it bang, I show the power
Don’t give a damn, you know it’s ours
Real rappers, fake women, real rappers
Fake rappers, fake homies, fake rappers
Lit rappers, hype tracks, geeked rappers
Lil’ rappers usually big rappers
Getting, getting high, homie, talk to me
Get in, get in love, baby, talk to me
Getting, getting far, momma, talk to me
Gonna see the sun, somebody, talk to me
Music is my diary
Hope you knew the answer
We gon’ be somebody
We won’t be together
