<LaCrim> page <Traitres (Single)> album page |
Traitres1st verse :It’s not gay rap that they asked for One for your mother and two for the money Weapons of war, we’ve had them for years A little sentence at Fresnes, I think it was necessary Whore put aside, I’m smoking through the window I know that these sons of bitches are having a party All are fakes, I’m growing pecs, pecs Short canon, I charge it up in order to put it in your head, bitch Purple ziplock Hurry up bastard, we’re risking a life sentence I’m sleeping under the sun and I’m sippin’, chillin In my head there’s only one image that keeps on repeating itself Bang, bang, bang, bang in your car Bang on your whole damn team, what is left of it Yeah, yeah, tonight I brought the beast out Eyes on my cash, your head is in your shwarama Bang, bang, yeah, yeah Yeah, I’m from a place where hunger makes people inhumane I’ve got my hand on my heart, ten soldiers And tommorow if you screw us over, we’ll hunt you down until the end Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac, tic tac It’s time for you to go meet Tupac Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac, tic tac It’s time for me to come take back my contacts Pre-chorus : Oh no, oh no, oh no Homie, don’t steal from the drug dealers Oh no, oh no, oh no Time passes, homie, not pain The street knows that we’re screwing them We’re cleaning up, our little brothers take the left overs My jail sentence was nothing but a test Those assholes were only stacking up coins, bitch Chorus : Money, traitors Steal, do it Gun, I’ll pull it In the head Money, traitors Steal, do it Gun, I’ll pull it In the head 2nd verse : We were fucking mothers since we were the same age as Your little brother, we were stacking up more than you Baby, yeah I took some money with me We’re going on Avenue Foch in order to buy ourself a new roof Bro, each hand-to-hand drug transaction or each money stack gets made as fast as the wind Nothing is as strong as the force of God Nothing is as red as blood Before, I could cut your hand off for a 100 euro bill Nowadays, that’s the amount of the tips that I innocently leave behind They probably think that you have to spend money in this world in order to be a boss Brother, the money that goes to your bitches could go to your kids Yo homie, yo homie, yo homie, I’m the best, croc’ is the vest That’s not what makes the man, my homies don’t accept people to hurt me Hurt me, bang, the blood can wash off the vest Hurt me, bang, the homie found your adress Pre-chorus : Oh no, oh no, oh no Homie, don’t steal from the drug dealers Oh no, oh no, oh no Time passes, homie, not pain The street knows that we’re screwing them We’re cleaning up, our little brothers take the left overs My jail sentence was nothing but a test Those assholes were only stacking up coins, bitch Chorus : Money, traitors Steal, do it Gun, I’ll pull it In the head Money, traitors Steal, do it Gun, I’ll pull it In the head |