[Flame] 🔥 Yelawolf - Rhyme Room Lyrics
[Verse 1: Raekwon]
Ayo I’m done selling drugs and buying keys on consignment
I’m about to buy a lab and purchase me a lion
Drug money is sucks, I’m in the lux, drunk as a fuck
Be going hard, bitch ass your butt
But still in all I gain I don’t know no other way
I’m cooler than the M6 play
I run with drug niggas who ya one day
One pay, one K
Sun play, some spray
Half of these niggas underage
They came with the Purple Tape
Grape shit, some call it gray
I call it revolutionizing in the mix
My money He-Man now
Was shakin, don’t fuck with them snakes
Fuckin with them fix hustle niggas is gay
If that’s your thing, cold play
Don’t get in my way
We got hack saws that smack jaws, betray me
Bout to get you more
What you in this for Rae? Chill
The official just late, give him his way
That’s my nigga no big and give him his space
If they front on us we frontin’ back, piss in his face
[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Peace to the god, whats up?
Lord I’m laid in the cut
Laid in the cut with a slut
Laid in the cut on the peanut butter guts
With a slut with Brazilian, hair to her butt
Denzel cool, standing at the stove like “woo!”
Whippin that work like “woo!”
Ric Flair “woo!”, Ric Flair “woo!”
I’m penguin pussy cool
Sittin sideways in a brand new coup
Fuck nigga, suck dick til you strangle
Therefore hatin on a real ass G
Like me talkin bout you ass got ammo
Say fuck your gripe wit a nigga named Mike
Fuck nigga, yea I’m a king in Atlanta
You don’t wanna be a news story on the TV channel
Talkin bout last seen in Atlanta
Bitch I’ll take your life, sleep good that night
Crack crab-legs in Savannah
I’m so Tony Montana
Nose full of coke, M16, all black hammer
Put coke in the street, in a week everything jump back
Sweet, sweeter than a can of Fanta
Polo, Polo head-to-flo’ ho
I got horses on pajamas
Yea, late night I might take flight
With 3 hoes like my name Santa
Yea yea, I drive a Chevy and I treat it like a Phantom
I bought a ’96 Impala and I named it MJG
‘Cause we pimp hard and we pimp hard
And a bitch can’t ride for free
Gone
[Verse 3: Yelawolf]
Peace to the gods
Way to hit the breaks home boy
You about to fall asleep in the car
Run a red light on me motherfucker
I’mma pull the Chevy over and reach in the glove
Speak from the blood kinfolk
You don’t wanna see my pen, no
You don’t wanna see me unplugged
If I pull a 9 out, overnight I’ll sign out
You snug as a bug in the rug
Get a buzz on drugs and chug a jug-of-suds til I bust da’ guts (Uh-huh!)
Man, I could make a deacon dirty when I speak
I’m murdering, I make a mean-mug and cuss
When I lean in the Cut – lass
It’s this “30 ought 6” swingin’ outta that window
Tires in the mud (Uh-huh!)
Got the soul of an old man, I can feel the love
So call me daddy, lay my balls on the Caddy
‘Cause I drive ’em nuts
Don’t follow and @ me if you ain’t followin’ rappin’
‘Cause I’m about grinding plus
These songs that I write got life like a sycamore tree
Let it grow tall, get thicker, more leaves
Til the boys on the blogs are losing hair
Well let ’em go bald, just give ’em more weave
Yela’s in the kitchen potpourri
Did I forget to mention I’m an emcee?
Did I have to prove it on BET
In a cypher twice, well it just might be
I know
So, Radioactive had a couple of radio-attempts
But, I don’t wanna be radio-active anymore now
Than I wanna jump off a cliff
This I promise
Catfish Billy, you can put Trunk Muzik in a picture frame!
You ain’t gotta tell me that I made a mistake, and some of that shit was lame
But all I wanna do is say “fuck that shit” and please accept my change
I was only tryna people-please
So people, please know my name
Now back to the metaphors
It’s better for me to settle scores instead of more self-loathin’
I put tags on toes
And like I’m in the morgue and I’m giving no pedicure
Set a store on the corner sellin’ melanol
Set sail on a pale horse with a sword
Yea me behold, in a white Caprice classic, pedal to the floor
Flying by the seat of my pants
‘Cause I need what I need
I believe that I can go achieve what I came to achieve
And I leave you and you with the new CD in your hands
Put it in, put it in, let the 808 fill that space
Any kind of high never feels this great
You can feel the taste, you can see that smell
You can touch the moon when you hear that bass
Thank God that I got this gift, damn right and I won’t shut up
Let the gray hair fall down like an OG, damn right and I won’t cut em
Man, I’m on my shit
Life is a trip when I’m jumpin over cracks in the road
Say what you want to about this white boy
But I know the truth and rap’s in his soul