Letra de '502 Come Up' de Bryson Tiller
502 Come Up é uma música de Bryson Tiller cuja letra tem inúmeras buscas, por isso decidimos que ela merece seu lugar neste site, junto com muitas outras letras de músicas que os internautas desejam conhecer.
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For real though
It's so wild now
This shit is crazy, yeah
Woke up in the hills this morning
Asking myself, "How did I get here this morning?"
'Vante Parker in that teal and orange
And Russell in that gold and purple
Youngest from the Ville, important
I used to sit up in my room and ponder
Finished school and get a Doctors
I'm twenty-two, I gotta get it now
Man, who knew he'd have it figured out?
Trapsoul, man, I crack codes
Crack cocaine, that's what we puttin' out
These fuck niggas saying
"Don't forget when you was broke, I was looking out"
And some say, "There's levels to this shit"
Damn, look at all the levels that I skipped
Feeling like there's a medal I should get
All these haters getting heavy on my dick
Look at my niggas
Chasing paper, getting books with my niggas
So how the fuck can people back home say I shook on my niggas?
Your two cents ain't working for me
All you, niggas, sound commercial to me, man
I don't like commercial niggas, please
Shut the fuck up before I hurt you (Fuck your feelings)
Don't take it personal (It's nothing personal)
This a Derby City come up
This a Derby City vertical
First 48, straight murder you
For years and years we waited on this
Living in a place folks didn't know exist
Surprise, motherfucker, we up in this, bitch
I said I'm back and I'm so much better
I'm so, so much better
And I won't stop (Louis)
I can't stop
Not now (Louis)
Not ever (Louis, Louis)
Louis slugger with the hits
Knock them out the park then I'm knocking down your bitch
I'm watching how you pitch
I'm not from Houston, no, I'm not from 'round the six
Got the four series, I should cop the six after the World Series
I just talked to Rich 'bout palm trees and bad bitches
And how these snakes can harm me with bad business
Damn, fuck out of here, nigga
It's very rare for young black men to come up out of here, nigga
Some will call it luck and some will call me up
I ain't heard from you in years, please
Get the fuck out my ear, nigga
My peers get it, only G-O-D can judge me
Fuck the jurisdiction
I'm working, ain't got time for thirsting over how these chicks appear in pictures
I'm just painting crystal-clear pictures, brushing up on my lyrics, nigga
I just wish momma was here to live up under chandeliers with us
I guess all I ever had to do was take this shit a little more serious, let's get it
There's not much to say
Woah, I'm from the Southside
God Tiller!
Damn!
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