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Paroles de Overload

Interprètes Money ManBenny the Butcher

Paroles de la chanson Overload par Money Man lyrics officiel

Overload est une chanson en Anglais

Talkin' numbers on my phone, realness in my chromosomes
Pickin' up another load, buyin' GALA, stakin' CRO
Can't front 'em 'cause this trap too slow, weighin' bags up watch it blow
Crazy how a nigga turn on you if you tell him, "No"
You can't get caught lackin' in these streets, you gotta stay on go
Man these niggas fruity, boy, don't make me split your cantaloupe
Tell me, how can niggas enjoy livin' when they out here dead broke?

Tesla died, switchin' whips, crypto trap, I double-dip
Only stock magazines, we ain't doin' after-market clips
Shorty got a crazy body, I love her face, I love her hips
Should I take the plug off? Right now, I'm on the fence
We gon' crush our competition, we the wrong ones to go against
I know Keisha gon' be right there if I sit down and I do a stint
I can't say the same for none of these hoes 'cause these hoes temporary
I'm pushin' this Maybach right now, even though it's January
I know lil' bro'll never fold, shooter ain't gon' never fold
Just 'cause it glittered on me, it's gold, make sure you pay me what I'm owed
My trap jumpin' like a toad, Trackhawk fuckin' up the road
The price gon' dump on this coin tomorrow, 'cause right now this shit oversold
Too many strangers out the apartment right now, this is our overload
I'm just tryna take the globe, right now, bitch, I'm in that mode
Blowin' up, I might explode, HODL gotta hold
Buy the dip don't ever FOMO, need them racks, I need 'em pronto

Talkin' numbers on my phone, realness in my chromosomes
Pickin' up another load, buyin' GALA, stakin' CRO
Can't front 'em 'cause this trap too slow, weighin' bags up watch it blow
Crazy how a nigga turn on you if you tell him, "No"
You can't get caught lackin' in these streets, you gotta stay on go
Man these niggas fruity, boy, don't make me split your cantaloupe (yeah)
Tell me, how can niggas enjoy livin' when they out here dead broke? (Yeah, uh)

Real niggas inspire me, just pages out my diary
I waited for it, finally, it's my turn, the irony
I used to be fed up with this rap shit, entirely (I was done)
A few million later, I'm still a menace to society
The streets need trappers and these beats need classics
And if hate like promotion, I guess my street team rappers (nigga)
I'm good, you make a call, I make a call, then look out 'cause them bricks comin'
Just be waitin' outside in the front like your lift comin', huh
You made a few chips, but still ain't teachin' your clique nothin' (nothin')
You can't fool my bitch, she know the Maybach the six-hunnid (ugh)
Race for the team, nigga, only was a dream, nigga
Money out the streets ain't the same as a clean million
BET Awards show, I was used to court clothes
My crib got a courtyard, I'm court-side dressed formal
My bitch not that regular, my watch not that normal
Jewels, I got a half on, mask on like Zorro
Every chance, I'ma ball, when my manager call
You know I'm-

Talkin' numbers on my phone, realness in my chromosomes
Pickin' up another load, buyin' GALA, stakin' CRO
Can't front 'em 'cause this trap too slow, weighin' bags up watch it blow
Crazy how a nigga turn on you if you tell him, "No"
You can't get caught lackin' in these streets, you gotta stay on go
Man these niggas fruity, boy, don't make me split your cantaloupe
Tell me, how can niggas enjoy livin' when they out here dead broke?
Droits parole : paroles officielles sous licence Lyricfind respectant le droit d'auteur.
Reproduction des paroles interdite sans autorisation.
Auteurs: Jeffrey Lynn Jones Jr., Jeremie Damon Pennick, Ryan O'Neil, Tysen Bolding
Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

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