Текст пісні Listen - Mistah F.A.B.

Listen

Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down
I’m waking up to marble floors
Satin sheets and white curtains
Coffee no cream, bath robe
Just life searchin
Your life hurtin
You’re life’s not worth it
I’m lookin at my life
It’s glowin
It’s sorta like my light’s workin
I’m star gazin
Mirror looking, mirror image
To dream of Martin Luther King living proof that I’m living
It’s vivid
It’s crystal clear
We not even in the same game
You ain’t even shooting baskets over here
I’m pistol pete in that bitch
Every year i"m hitting shots long distance range 44 GHWest clear
My nails done, manicured
They shine and glow
Designer clothes not even designer scene bro
They one of ones
I’m a hot young son a gun
Niggas like what you do to him?
What you done to son?
Nothin but just be an individual
He was being criminals
I was living with digitals
Getting money off the digitals
Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down
Not to impose offend or step on your toes
But this road that I’m walking
You couldn’t take it
You drove
No mistake I suppose
Nothing fake to my flows
But if you rumble in this paint I might break up your nose
I never make up these flows just to fake I suppose
I just take up the cake
Then get the cake up at shows
Take the breakup at shows
I take no break at my shows
You see my swag is like makeup to hoes
If I was in the game pimpin
I might take a few hoes
If i was in the kitchen cooking I might bake a few Os
If I was ski mask robbing I might take a few Os
But you couldn’t make this money the way i’m making with those
I started off homie with a rap dream
Remember when I use to sell to crack fiends
What you sold em?
Hopes and my dreams and told em that I would make it on the big screen, no cream
Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down
Listen man
How could you compare a little cub to a bear
When in a UFC competition
That fight is not fair
No song for a ballad
No toss up for a salad
You cheated your whole life
This came all off talent
I rap batter
Stack better
My style proper
I’m smarter
I’m more handsome
My interview is hotter
And no partner
Your little stunts don’t touch me
Your radars and records can’t reach me
I’m out the country
I kick it, got kicks
You sell kicks Al Bundy
Come on
How could you even confront me
You not even in my same league
The same song
We don’t talk on the same phone
We don’t roam the same Rome
We don’t walk in the same home
We don’t do nothing alike
Its like comparing barely to mike
I mean you dope when it comes to scoring
But let’s be honest
Who would you want?
Some Barclays or Jordans?
Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down
Sit yourself down