Lyrics ¡Mayday! – Blue Soul
Text:
Berns:
Welcom to the morro, where it’s all smoke and mearors
The future’s hazy, but I couldn’t see clearer
Turned off the radeo, and let my dial pivit
You see we always onto something, acted on a huntch, and now all the fun’s been corrupted
Fabrocated rockstars keep the keep they money pumpin
Till they make the next coad, and then sell the budget
Only a handfull on the level, drawing past the lines, ripping up the teacher’s stensle
Up in Vice City where the devil drive a rentle
And these sketches lost angels where the number 2 pencel
The medication’s transidental, don’t ask me where I got it, I ain’t found it in a temple
Took a couple tokes, and created something special
Just to keep the devil away from my soul on one angle
Put your motherfucking hands up, and all the real niggas stand up
Said put your motherfucking hands up, now all the real niggas stand up
Murs:
Someone tell that nigga Dangermouse, he o me a beat
A 2500 when he see me on the street
I used to have this condo out in Southbeach
Back when Plex, Wrek and Berns was all signed to South B
Hopped out of bed this morning, put my cape on
Took a shower, put my 2Pac face on
La Purler drawers, with some fresh bathing apes on
I’m lookin fly, feelin like my own ape song
Mers for president, the campaine
In the VIP with Bud Light, fuck your CHAMPAGNE
Blue flanel button at the top of this white T
Leanin like a cholo in this 60 dollar Nike
Cortez cleaner than the pussy on a pornstar
I tryed to warn you, you gotta pay your doos, man
Tryna make some babies, while I’m fuckin hoes to Wu Tang
Berns:
Put your motherfucking hands up, and all the real niggas stand up
Said put your motherfucking hands up, now all the real niggas stand up
Wrekonize:
Peter Piper picked a pack of purple peppers called Sriracha
And broke it down into a 5th of Vodca, I got ya
Blood moons and criptic messeges fill up a pressidents
The mic just make you second guess the place you take your presidents
Comin from rock bottom, AO, MI
Headin west to scoop up Murs, in that pink Semi
Shots poured, sippin on a Mescal Mula
Skipped class, them highs and lows, Farris Weal Buler
Keep my palm, known to break bones, in every state home
Across the Misissipppy, they know we bring the gray tones
And that’s just why we keep one, jumpin like an elivator
Then pumpin shit back up, just like a respirator
Simpelton flows catch all the acolades
Just in time to sit the family down for my matinee
See something fearce is bruing in my soul
But it keeps on bubblin, so it gotta go
Berns:
Put your motherfucking hands up, and all the real niggas stand up
Said put your motherfucking hands up, now all the real niggas stand up
Album
¡Mayday! – Future Vintage
