Curren$y - Gran Turismo (feat. Termanology)

Par  |  il y a 1 mois  |  Artiste : Curren$y
Curren$y - Gran Turismo (feat. Termanology)

Curren$y

Gran Turismo

Featuring(s) : Termanology

  Contributeurs : 0

Paroles - lyrics: Gran Turismo

[Intro: Curren$y]
Scribble Scratch Records
Andretti and Statik Selektah
Pussy motherfucker, better guard your necklace
Uh

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Scribble Scratch Records, protect your necklace
Gran Turismo specifications on the Lexus
Playin' interstate games with those that never catch up
We in it for the long stretch, bruh, them niggas pressed, what?
Them bitches pressed, Spitta ain't fall off yet
How many more cars he gon' get? I think he just bought a jet
This is the life
Rap money plus them sugar babies
Wine loot to Vegas from me every night
Everything's going right, Rolex on my left arm all lights
Band facing bezel, aw fam, let me tell you
I walk through Hell, with gasoline shoes, fool
Don't ever talk to me about payin' dues
My Ferarri collection heavy 'cause I buy awards for myself
My driveway display is really just a trophy shelf
I done well, turnin' what I wrote into wealth
Dabbed up, spaced out, high as an asteroid belt
Cadillac grill sizzlin', these niggas patty melt
Runnin' up that money like a flight of steps
Runnin' up that money like a flight of steps
I had to say that line twice, make sure it all connect, yup, yup

[Verse 2: Termanology]
I stay whippin' a Lexus, different women, I'm reckless
Makin' records with legends, takin' checks for my message
My hands glistening, man, listen, I'm ambitious
My plan different, competition is nonexistent
Let's keep it real, my steering wheel is my realest homie
My wheels are chromey, I'm on the go but my children know me
My pinky ring is looking just like a wedding band
I'm getting bands, that's several grand, look at your man
Fuck a lunch, my brunch pussy and pancakes
My eyes red like the brakes, flakes up in my paint
Lap dances while I'm writing, my life is exciting
I asked KiKi if she love me, she told me she ridin'
'67 Eleanor with the metal doors
Heavy bread of course, gold shield like the Porsche
Hit the switch on the air ride, it's land mines
Ridin' through them hoods with colors and hand signs
Now that's a don, they crowned me for how I rap on songs
Google my catalog, thirty-five atom bombs
My pen fire, that's how I built me an empire
Mass' legend, Reggie Lewis, Len Bias

[Outro: Curren$y]
Never talk to me 'bout payin' dues
Yeah, yeah
Just a trophy shelf
Into wealth
High as an astroid belt
These niggas patty melt
Runnin' up that money like a flight of steps, runnin'

Bilal
Bilal
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