Soulja Boy

Soulja Boy - 2Milli songtekst

Je score:



[Intro:]

The Best Rapper Alive.

Weezy Say 1 Milli I Say 2.

[Laugh]

This my new album "the deandre way"

2009 is over. 2010 is here!



Listen

Yo!



I did what I wanted, niggas did what they could

A lion wouldn't cheat but a Tiger would

I only keep real niggas in my stable

A million dollar chain, I'm feeling like Gucci's label

So icey I really don't care

Haters green as a pool table and they twice as square

Had to cut a couple bitches, them niggas need stitches

I'm getting money out the tree y'all niggas getting switches

Similar to Nas, I need a mic though

Chop the bread up, Tae Kwon Do

They pass me the game like Tom Brady

These rappers chances looking slim just like shady

Niggas locked behind my bars I'm taking out prisoners

Sit back relax recieving my residual

Think this song is dope shit wait til you see the visual

Please brace yourself this shit about to get critical

Let it be known I got rappers on my hit list

I got so many gifts you would swear I stole Christmas

Word to the Grinch bitch my style will switch quick

I knew this all along I was waiting just to hit the kill switch

Since day one man your boy been the truth

Broke so many records like I'm in the glass booth

Like I'm in the glass studio breaking out barriers

Back on crime I was screaming out Ellen wood ? area

nigga I ain't scared of ya, never ever will be

I'm screaming I'm the best till these rappers kill me

Make the people feel me like the blind men do

On your girl head so much like her favorite shampoo

I'm traveling where I want, soulja's vacation

My mind is so free, ? proclamation

I'm so hot, haters evaporating

6 bitches on my dick I'm elimidating

I'm high every friday just like smokey

I'm spitting real shit, these niggas spitting Karaoke

Hit stick with the flow just like Madden

I'm so high on my carpet feeling like Alladin

I spit hot flames bitch just like a dragon

And my pants saggin

Spell it backwards niggas

Niggas get heated when they see the coupe on

I don't give a fuck got my Pyrex suit on

I'm a keep rapping til the fans hear the best of me

I'm cooking up the game bitch yeah I got the recipe

You ain't gotta like me just please respect it

Hip hop is dead nigga let me resurrect it

Microphone check it, uno, dos, tres,

I'm a keep spitting til they crown me the best

The rap games a mess, let me clean it up

It's a pigsty they going ham give it up

Flying down the highway a million on the dashboard

You can't start my car up unless you got the password

I'm something like a prophecy spit so properly

When my album drops watch how many rappers copy me

Haters opinions are obsolete

Don't make pop music so it ain't no pop in me

And my brains a bitch where she at when I need her

Ya pack nines, I pack nine kilometers

Ya did'nt want beef why would ya start it

Cameras flashing like you walking down the red carpet

First you was nameless now I'm a make you famous

Hit you with the stainless and leave your ass brainless
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Taal: Engels

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