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Timbaland

People Like Myself

  hip-hop  rnb  rap  pop  hip hop
430,00 прямо сейчас

Текст песни Timbaland - People Like Myself

Timbaland - People Like Myself слова песни




[chorus: timbaland]People like myself, only hang with self cause thats the way to goI cant go outside without findin some new kinfolksPeople on my left, people on my right, all in my earholeMake be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go[repeat chorus][magoo]Its mag from your tv screen, buzzin off the jim beamBut the mag yall think yall know aint what I seemIm a low-down freak from seapeak(? )See them high school mates, I see em and dont speakAll yall wanna talk like we used to hangCause Im doin my thang, now you wanna bask in my fameThats why I stay out the club, be in the cribSmokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phoneAnd Im sellin cell phones, all with chipsMy nine to bloods, my glock to crips, who want war? You and your boys can bring the noiseBut ima bring hand grenades, now youre laid!Pull out my dick, piss on your bitch-assSit on your face, now you gotta kiss assWho fiend for fame life belong to your fansAnd haters and thugs that wanna end your lifespan[chorus][timbaland]Uhh, uhh, uhh - since I got bigger (bigger)Im over here and yall recite tims my nigga (nigga)Like I just figure (figure)And my tracks didnt help niggazSo for rememdy I pound niggazLike I keep em in djs for that new jiggaLike them forty-two girbaudsI pocket every demo, like timbaland - hes that next niggaConfirmed by people that she can blowConvinced booker t shes the next to goNow Im checkin every joint and every unit I soldOnce Im deep in the dough, Im deep with a crewIn the 80s yall screamed like the movie is throughYall screamin this is "nutty professor: part ii"To "eyes wide shut" to whoever I chooseI can appreciate a kidman to a, tom cruiseTo a, fast food, Im strictly drive-throughThe money I gave dudes I basically raised fools[chorus][magoo]Even the phone spit it, God know what Im thinkinIm drinkin and smokin and stressin, go to church for confessionDown on my knees, beggin to god, show me the pathMy label is jerkin me workin me so the devil can lurk in meSick of niggaz bitchin, wishin Id failTell em mag be the rap effin kenan and kelIm spittin the version of verses curses over the churchesRappin mo iller than thriller manila and give you salmonella[timbaland]Stop, the press!Bitch, you cant afford that dress, you cant afford that hairdoI dont want your sex, here take your fast food"tim youre dead wrong, tim youre dead rude!"Hey girl, I dont even know you"timbaland were your first cousin marion sue"My momma never ever mentioned youMy momma also told me to watch them savage boos, what? [chorus: sung by static - repeat 2x]

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