A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

CHILDISH GAMBINO lyrics : "R.I.P. FEAT BUN B"

[Verse 1: Bun-B]
Late $$# nights come from long days
Doin' all the right things in the wrong ways

Doin' all the wrong sh*t for the right reasons
Sprinklin' midnight game, call it night seasoning
Haters get salty give 'em cholesterol

Trill O.G, mop up the floor with the best of y'all
Then dry that b*tch off with the rest of y'all
And catch a flight to Rio de Janeiro for la festival

Yeah, and that's word to fit a baldy
Ball hard like I see menace out of my Spalding
And I'll break your face with a no look pass

Now back to your parking lot pimp with yo little hook $$#
I use harsh words cause these are hard times
And trill-ass people, nowadays they're such a hard find

So it's when I open if I could keep 'em
And one on the scope, so if they frontin' I can sleep 'em
Man, my flow is so parabolic

The energy'll blow you over even if you're Broly
!@%& it, now that's one for the Googlers
That fell asleep on they desk and never step their noogle up

Takin' lames out never been new to us
The hardest part of this sh*t is figurin' which of you to bust
Then step your weight up like GNC

And R.I.P. to Chris Luda reppin' CNC
Straight G


[Hook x2]
There's somethin' inside you
It's hard to explain

They're talking about you boy
But you're still the same


[Verse 2: Childish Gambino]
Rest in peace to them n*ggas who was dead wrong
Toni Braxton to them n*ggas, that's a sad song

Cry a river Timberlake, the whole industry
Record the whole album in my living room in Italy
N*ggas who wasn't feelin' me secretly want a handout

Keep your mouth shut, I can probably help your man out
Drop a new stack all lames get to steppin'
Drop a new track all blogs go to heaven

Kill the web, man these n*ggas need they hits up
Kiss her neck, add a dime to the tip cup
She is not "!@#%," f*ck a dude who says so

Just because she f*ckin' doesn't mean she ain't a lady
Kill the whole stage, I never needed a mic check
!#)% on my spacebar, f*ckin' tired of Skype sex

Runnin' with a new breed, me and Bun B
This hip-hop nation, that big country
N*gga please! We ain't stop for no one

Wu-Tang Generator name, I'm a shōgun
Wu-Tang Generator name, watch him smoke one
Talk a lot of sh*t, but none of them will approach him

Gambino got first position, the game is ballet
So graceful; drive, he don't need a valet
So angel: fly as I wanna be

Mercy, somebody show these n*ggas can't hurt me
Woah


[Hook x2]
There's somethin' inside you
It's hard to explain

They're talking about you boy
But you're still the same

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