Warm Brew - Word [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Yeah! Uh-huh
It sound good, right?
Yeah, your sucka static be familiar
You feel it when they grillin ya
Feeling that be feelin like fuck all, I ain't concealin my vibe!
Water conscience[?] that will be all upon my shoulder
Telling me I could get over
With a nine and a C-note
In my cousin Camino
Double it up in Reno
Call that shit Medicino and be out in a day
It's lord Tay from the city of the titties and twats
They vicious and plot
And I ain't I even get to the cops
Now I can sit up here and tell you, take care of your health
But shit, I'm about to crack a motherfucking fotey myself
And find a young, dumb thing that'll eat cum-crane[?]
Quicker than a twinkie she could take off the shelf
Nah but for real
Possess the skill and you shall reap what you sow
My brothers Ewen, Nick, and Hairy got shot one year ago
Yeah we were sitting in the studio like where did we go?
And now we dropping black Christmas for the real niggaros
I believe a
Real niggaro
Gotta ask? You'll never know
I give my heart to this jazz, this blues, this rap, this soul
You can hear it in my voice, demeanor, and tone
Still health careless cuz the fee[?] and the toe[?]
Somethin I can't afford with this weed that I rolled
I got a hustler's Jones in these bones
O'z in my palms
Let these hoes just keep carrying on and on and on and on
My lawn look like something left shit, ain't nothing new
But watch your back, cause I was born to hit a lick, nigga
Yeah, I was born to hit a lick
Watch your back, nigga!
Cuz I was born to hit a lick
And I'm out

[Hook 2X]
Where all my people? Word
Where's all my bitches? Word, word
Where all my niggas? Word, word, word
Don't grab a brew if you spooked or scurred

[Verse 2]
Nice work, if you can get it, man
Good job if you can get it, man
Now ask the people if they give a damn
The globe is pretty lonely, if you livin like a middle man
The price is on the head of my ego, yet still I stand
Lieutenant Dan
Shittin on folk like I'm Killa Cam
Son of Sam
Sellin racks like a thriller jam
I need a song to make the shawties move their body quick
They never listen to my words, they got a lot of lip
My music make a lot of sense, and so I'm proud of it
Their music got you lookin sick, because you out of it
But I can't hate, I know I'm cray
Or maybe it's bipartisan
These niggas not on my level, they get no lettermans
And when it's all said and done, they bitches looking sad and dumb
And my women looking fabulous, it's hazardous to stare at them
You know we roll stashbox til the last stop
And if you be that negative, I hope your ass rot
I'm a loner, I'm a sorry entertainer
It's no better that these niggas making bangers
Trying to make a young duck like a fork at the hanger
Finna get my nunchucks for the flex with my ladies
The greatest, the greatest!
The greatest, the greatest!

[Hook 2X]