Представляем точный текст композиции "When It Comes To This Shit" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста Journalist . Эта интерпретация слов песни помогает лучше понять смысл заложенный в композицию. Лирика «When It Comes To This Shit» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую Journalist передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани этого трека.
Journalist - "When It Comes To This Shit"
Lyrics to When It Comes To This Shit : [Verse 1: Journalist] Ay yo, its Journalist nigga even on my nicer days I heat you up spin you round, call me microwave Skate off like at an Ice Capade with the type of guage that bring the cops out like parades Leave your family in the triage, second guessin graf artist, Im good with sketchin weapons Leave emancipations for lacerations With bunks to gun a pump like Im half Jamaican You know the flow fascinatin Nigga Im so sharp, when I walk I scratch the pavement I aim this gat right for your ways then I go to your moms house to give her all types of bouquets or I can paralyze half of ya You dont wanna see your kids laugh at ya when they see you peein through a catheter However you want it, you can have it your way Capital J, and never use a gat for display [Chorus x2: Journalist] When it comes to this shit here Yall the type to sit there Im soon to rock that road, crotched in the big chair Studded up crown with forty below wristwear Prove yall clowns couldnt fuck with the flow this year [Verse 2: Journalist] Ay yo, heres a few promises turn yall to vomitters with different types of heaters if the waste got thermometers Niggas wanna climb with us Crazy World conglomerate Philadelphi dominant comin through the monitors My chumps beat you like drums, quite severe Then I fuck around and follow up, just like the snear I dont think you in the right career Maybe you should go back to cross dressin and them tight brazeers Cause yall niggas ride mine, worryin bout my shine Stay on the sideline and work with the pom-poms Throw some rounds throw your arm or confetti your sleve When Im in town, the sheriffs and the deputies leave Nigga I aint got respect for you please You aint sittin on dough, you fallin off like sesame seeds Cause you cant bear pressure if you dont wear vestes Crime unit find you I hope they got air freshners [Chorus x2] [Verse 3: Journalist] Yo when the gat is in my distance I have you datin fishes Your wive tears drippin on your graduation pictures Clutch glocks and what not rush spots, fuck cops I got enough shots to get cuz block dustmopped When I stop the beamer Cock the neener Bloodll pour to the pavement like its Aquafina Come out on bail, fallin up the cops subpeana Come back around, send more shots between ya Bullets burnin up your femur Turn into screamers from uppercut swings of the permanent leaner Cause the guns I squeeze em If I shoot em just once like James Ingram Watch his brains leave him Ill be shinin my toys til the lost boys You rather see me sit in the can like Altoids Ock, Im on the block, gettin narcs annoyed Passin out rocks like the Sixers ball boy Its Journ! [Chorus x2] [ When It Comes To This Shit Lyrics ]
Содержание трека помогает не только запомнить любимые строки, но и ощутить связь с Journalist. Возможно, вы заметите, как лирика «When It Comes To This Shit» перекликается с вашим опытом, или найдёте ответы на давние вопросы. Эта страница создана для ценителей музыки: здесь вы сохраните текст для личного использования, поделитесь им с друзьями или используете в творчестве. Погружайтесь в мир слов композиции «When It Comes To This Shit» — каждая строчка здесь обретает новый смысл.