shyne – edge

por favor espere um momento...

[verse 1]
uh uh, uh, uh
ayo, mac 10s and fake friends
lawyers little game homicide 25 with the f-cking n-gg- face ’em
but i’m still trill, still holdin
rollin gully until i’m froze, close in a box with a bomb in fluid
veins pumpin ice
first some 15 keep that king pumping right
hard white, cold cash
hold fast, fold fast, through the city so gas
no -ss
straight head b-tch, i’m one a from the feds
f-ck comma raps, same g and canna
all i got in this world is my fifth d-ck and nana
gangsta mannerism lyrical vandalism
n-gg-z be burnin up their gums until the f-cking hammers h-t ’em
who need help?
well until then i’ma take that mac off the shelf
and hold the f-cking street hostage
blowing smoke out my nostril
every breath is a step to a non-time in death

[hook 2x]
i wanna know where to go
need a place in my mind i can rest
cause this time is running out for my flesh
dried up, sittin’ in a chair fried up

[verse 2]
you know me; i don’t need no introduction in this
big gun, big d-ck, half of a meal on the wrist
sittin in my continental thinkin’ about potential connects
i live in all, just pencil the best
parts of the live of a quintessential hustler
when i pull a slide back
motherf-ckers be hoppin’ their faces don’t get left open
you understand?
shirt soaking, brain smoking left in the ocean floatin’
shyne po, dough, stack, y’all rap n-gg-z is trash
i don’t give a f-ck how much records you sold
tryin’ to be me
keep it real dog, you’ll die to be me
you wanna know how it feel, don’t you?
to have a murder charge, took gun to the american music awards
and live life against stars
doing 170 screaming “f-ck the world” (gangsta get outta the car)

[hook 2x]

[verse 3]
where the f-ck them n-gg-z at? we gonna handle this beef
turn your mic off b-tch; see me in the street
f-ck peace ’til i’m rest in the dried up flesh is finish
i don’t know how to tell until i’m in the morgue
dysfunctional, highly uncomfortable paranoid
without the extra clip (b-tch), try me i’ll puncture you
had n-gg-z waking up with wings in their backs, halos in their head like
“ayo i’m dead”
can a knight f-cking princess diana type
vane wives, vane light, pen i write cold, hand of ice
they said too much for the motor mind to comprehend
walk wit me, pause take a breath
things ain’t just the same for gangstas
sleeping in diamond, it’s f-cking up the game for gangstas
while charges tryin to ring a gangsta
through it all i maintain my gangsta

[hook until fade]

- letras de shyne

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