Interlude
Belly"Interlude"은(는) Belly의 곡입니다, 2017, Pop. 길이는 1:46, 36 lines / 280 words.
가사
0:10Yeah look
0:13Straight out the holy land to holdin' grams
0:15Tra-tra-trappin' out stolen vans with goals and plans
0:18Lonely man remember bein' my only fan
0:21I'm down and up the Midas touch the golden hand
0:25Blood in the soil is over oil
0:28Cold-hearted my blood boils
0:30The spoils of war are used to take the drugs out the foil
0:33Man these arms can't reach you AR's won't recoil
0:36Goddamn I might marry a heiress and move to Paris
0:39F**k the carriage baby let's go disappear and just perish
0:42Thirty karats in the gold
0:43I wear it to cherish the kings from which we inherit
0:46My chariot is McLaren
0:48It's all numeric
0:49Talkin' numbers you incoherent
0:51Don't be embarrassed I blame your parents for even caring
0:54Or not aborting ah f**k it it's not important
0:57My vital organs can't even tell if it's night or morning
1:00Final warning final warning final warning
1:03Every morning you'll awake and await mourning
1:06We earn it then we burn it to ash
1:08I call it urn money
1:10My dog called 40 before he turned 20
1:13Money is earned the rest is inherited
1:15Hashish come from Marrakech all my kush is American
1:18Man I feel like a therapist pistol on me like Maravich
1:21I careless I'm so perilous with all of this arrogance goddamn
1:25Money hoes that's something that you can't chase
1:28I ain't sh*t but let you eat from the same plate
1:32If you ungrateful then you ain't great
1:35Me and Khaled come from the same place
1:37Huh holy land holy land
1:40Back when I was holdin' grams just to haul a Benz
1:43Yeah holy land holy land
1:46My father never was a holy man
Yeah look Straight out the holy land to holdin' grams Tra-tra-trappin' out stolen vans with goals and plans Lonely man remember bein' my only fan I'm down and up the Midas touch the golden hand Blood in the soil is over oil Cold-hearted my blood boils The spoils of war are used to take the drugs out the foil Man these arms can't reach you AR's won't recoil Goddamn I might marry a heiress and move to Paris F**k the carriage baby let's go disappear and just perish Thirty karats in the gold I wear it to cherish the kings from which we inherit My chariot is McLaren It's all numeric Talkin' numbers you incoherent Don't be embarrassed I blame your parents for even caring Or not aborting ah f**k it it's not important My vital organs can't even tell if it's night or morning Final warning final warning final warning Every morning you'll awake and await mourning We earn it then we burn it to ash I call it urn money My dog called 40 before he turned 20 Money is earned the rest is inherited Hashish come from Marrakech all my kush is American Man I feel like a therapist pistol on me like Maravich I careless I'm so perilous with all of this arrogance goddamn Money hoes that's something that you can't chase I ain't sh*t but let you eat from the same plate If you ungrateful then you ain't great Me and Khaled come from the same place Huh holy land holy land Back when I was holdin' grams just to haul a Benz Yeah holy land holy land My father never was a holy man
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