6 Summers

Lyrics

Wait a minute!
 Trump's got a love child and I hope that bitch is buckwild
 I hope she sip Mezcal, I hope she kiss señoritas and black gals
 I hope her momma's El Salv', I hope her poppa stick around, yeah
 Take chains off, take rings off
 Bracelets and things, big aches and pains
 My jack rang off with clickbait
 Truth is too raw, it's a fish plate
 Fela, the kunte
 A hunnid and fifty of us on the big stage?
 How long it took a nigga just to get paid?
 And now I think I'm 'bout to buy a Bentley, pronto
 I'm in LA with the shaker and bongo
 I heard your tape, do or die, it was compo-
 Trimmin' the bream with the blade and lawnmow'
 Figure it out, nigga
 Bitch, don't spill my sake
 You gon'make me kick you out this 'partment
 You gon' have to kick it in the lobby
 Damn, but don't somebody stop me, I'm too sloppy
 Trump's got a love child and I hope that bitch is buckwild
 I hope she sip Mezcal, I hope she kiss señoritas and black gals
 I hope her momma's El Salv', I hope her poppa stick around, yes, Lord
 The revolution will not be televised
 But it will be streamed live
 In 1080p on your pea-brain head in the face ass mobile device
 Alright?
 This shit gon' bang at least six summers
 From out that rock you been under
 Mummy wrapped, duffel bag, gutter bunny
 It's hard to stomach cold murder
 It's easier to get a nine millimeter
 He was 19 with a burner, they had to off 'em (Off 'em)
 Reform, reform shoulda came sooner (Sooner)
 Wait a minute!
 This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
 (Summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers)
 ♪
 Word!
 This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
 But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers
 They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother
 Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter
 Reform, reform shoulda came sooner
 Come on
 This shit gon' bang at least six summers
 Pop the top, that bitch hot than a motha
 We need more peace and less lone gunners
 Put down your heat and smoke marijuanas
 Pop the lock off your muzzle
 Niggas is dyin' like lost files in the shuffle
 We know you lyin', my nigga, naw, we don't trust you
 We know you buy to sell it back to the public
 'Cause there's money to made in the killin' spree
 That's why he tryna start a war on the Twitter feed
 Somebody take this nigga's phone, is you kiddin' me?
 Take them AKs up outta these Inner City streets
 This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
 But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers
 They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother
 Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter
 Reform, reform shoulda came sooner
 And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
 Get the Coltrane and the Cobain
 And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
 Get the Coltrane and the Cobain
 Dear Mr. President, it's evident that you don't give a damn
 Shi- tell me somethin' that I don't know
 All this fuckin' evidence and if it ever make it to the stand
 Shi- you know they gon' let 'em go, bro
 You was overseas stealin' niggas' land and oil
 Billy copped the Desert Eag' and it's legal to tote it
 Lil' nigga bullied out his Pumas
 But why he have to shoot the whole school up?
 And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
 Get the Coltrane and the Cobain
 And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
 Get the Coltrane and the Cobain
 This shit gon' bang at least six summers
 (Summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers)
 Word!
 This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
 But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers
 They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother
 Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter
 Reform, reform shoulda came sooner
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:42
Key
6
Tempo
92 BPM

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