Представляем точный текст композиции "Child s Play" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста Lucky Boys Confusion. Наша коллекция содержит детально проверенные слова песни, включая скрытые метафоры, отсылки и эмоции, вложенные автором. Лирика «Child s Play» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую Lucky Boys Confusion передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани любимого трека.
Lucky Boys Confusion - "Child s Play"
Im in the wrong fucking place, at the wrong fucking time
Dont worry motherfucker cause Ill still get mine
I know the magnitude of the right attitude
Remember one day youll be showing me gratitude
Inevitably you will agree, your fragile ego Im denting
Unnecessary jealousy, why are you resenting
Lucky Boys Confusion ripping leaves off clovers
Adam Im about to send the limelight over, kid
Well, hello my my how the tables have turned
You got your new style and the tricks that you learned
From me, go let go of the ghetto phase
Its like everybodys trying to earn a buck these days
Ripping off my kids, with your ziplock bags
You think youre rolling now, you need to step the fuck back
Well take care of Arizona, handle the schwag
Shorty got a brand new bag
When say opportunity knock on me door
Such a shame its not the music, its how much they score in their pocket
Now, the band plays I see the dollar sign in your eyes
But guess what Mr. Parasite we can see through all of your lies
Im rocking mic stands daily, Im merely
Two blocks away from the venue,
Its not as if you can hear me, clearly
Bringing up on the styles which were ours, nearly
With help from the stars of the past
Enhanced with your modern day melodies
Beats that kick your ass and you agree
Im not up here to rock the room alone
Stubhystyle pick up the microphone
Im back by popular demand, some people dont understand
Why Im laughing fucking up all the shit you planned
Cause your motives werent true and either were you
Trying to figure out how I do the things I do
A word of advice if you already havent
Go out, step out, special order some talent
Dont say Im not a musician cause I can hold my own
And bitch I play the microphone
Ooooh, mama did you hear they want make me superstar
Ooooh, mama did you hear theyre gonna make me a star
You seemed startled by the way that I approach the mic
But isnt my tongue spitting out all the things you like
Mixing flavors together like Neapolitan, tight
Clam baking the limousine
He sprinkles on his stardust before he hits the street
A victim of his ego, pop rock society
His gear is nice and trendy; you got your baggy jeans
Hes got a few piercings but nothing to extreme
Radio friendly writings is the highway to money
Maybe well be stars if we give them what they need
I get twelve percent off the music I make
And the image that theyre selling you is fake
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