Представляем точный текст композиции "Youre Done (Tru Dyke)" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста JR Writer . Эта интерпретация слов песни помогает лучше понять смысл заложенный в композицию. Лирика «Youre Done (Tru Dyke)» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую JR Writer передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани этого трека.
JR Writer - "Youre Done (Tru Dyke)"
Lyrics to Youre Done (Tru Dyke) : (feat. Camron) [Jr Writer:] Writaaa! Lets have a pep talk, never my check short I hop in da lex sport and pop up on west port Know my next tought' What you ever extort or export' Ranged around them homos in escorts Im a vet dog, youll never see me lyrically I wet dogs so step off. You better do your history I did my history. This kiddos done Before i could thug a nigga he was Jim Jones son Whats the big ol front' Like his swag aint confused I remember he was doing bathrobes and shoes This asshole is rude, my cashflow is huge You suck, what the fuck'! All your rap shows get bood Its Murda!! Them dogsll pop up with them burners You worker. Your boss is washed up like a surfer The nerve of this herb to. Ill hurt ya Your "Made you look" was a fake Neptune track with a Jamaican hook You a waste of push. How could you offend R' Ridin in a windstar, lying like you been hard' Youve never been scarred, or wise keep. So why beef' I aint Mobb Deep. Them niggas 5 feet. Ill put you guys each in ditches yo, hit wit fours, critical, Jigga know Thats why we dig the ho You dig it ho, we squeeze rounds pop You so fuckin wack you make Bleek sound hot So ease down ock. You wouldnt kill squat You on da Roc cuz they had to fill a mill spot You gettin deals stop, Why lie you bitch' Youre not as rich Only time you get scratched is when you got an itch Im talkin dollars, chips. Some you dont see in fronta So call this bitch anonymous cuz you aint seeing numbas Get the picture you dirty little nigra' Hov got you on the back burner like a trigger Whos sicker, or slicka' Ill rip ya with one line One rhyme, dump mine, nigga this is crunch time Come at the Don Im dumpin them arms Your whole tape trash and it took you months to respond This pawn stylin on who' I while with a few Who would wanna here a whole fuckin album of you' Its true, and True, I will make you my lunch Youve been signed a while now and aint hit radio once They aint playin that junk, If you gave it to Funk Just to get spends you gon have to pay every month Chump I aint forget your boss "Jigga, Jigga what'" Hes down at the office getting fingers up his butt One of his workers told me how he really gives it up How he really is a smut and he feminine as fuck Yup, Mention us then Im sprayin on target All True Lyfe fans are just waitin on garbage This aint Jrs hardest, You aint even Roc You roc lots with the damn reggaton artists Ur mouths getting runned, Im bout getting ones, your son You aint coming out like ur gun YOURE DONE! [ Youre Done (Tru Dyke) Lyrics ]
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