Joey Bada$$ (joey Bada**) - 147 lyrics

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Joey Bada$$ (joey Bada**) - 147 lyrics

[Verse 1: Dirty Sanchez] Dirty Sanchez, and I got dirty presidents Tell your b**h that we at the back door kicking it Mix the light of hash with the spliff in it My lungs are blacker than licorice so they match with my timberlands Missy didn't hit the L yet but, I'm super duper fly man Aviators on no helmet Capital STEEZ helped us formulate a team Now it's cool all week, 45 to 47 degrees f** school though, them hoes scoot over 95 maxima the new range rovers It feels like we space traveling With a eighth and lava lamp, n***as just wishing we'd throw the towel in Tiedye mental now k** the game we bound to win Crown and caged we proceed yall pre-game All our proceeds are sprouting now we reigning Dirty motherf**er this game what we staining [Hook: Dirty Sanchez] And you don't stop it's still 147 on an undercover cop And you don't stop it's still 147 on an undercover cop [Verse 2: Rokamouth] From an AK get em to a motherf**ing cop f** is they repping for trying to lock me up for pot It's too bad that these bullets ain't gon make you n***as stop Cause the way that they be watching if these f*ggots want the co*k Why they plot on a n***a? Guess they think I'm selling rock Cause my knots grown bigger, I'm saving for the top Just to drop ya'll quicker, f** what you heard beast coast gon get ya And when we come get ya bring ya spot on the stretcher I'm a real hot stepper fighting hard for this cheddar And only getting better do this sh** in any weather And if you really clever watch your head for your head get severed [Hook: Rokamouth] [Verse 3: A La $ole] As I walk through the streets in the alleys of Brooklyn Feins is on a scheme mad cops is crookin' you shooken Just look kid, this ain't your average playground Bodides in the garbage so them n***as never play round Just stay down, cause stray bullets might leave your face looking Destructed, young ruckus can't touch this Fake MC's, get the ham and no bluffing They say the kids ill, no I'm f**ing disgusting The bucket brim low, the all black timbos Wear the lumberjack got a Brooklyn mental We fresher than mentos, you cats is all weak Spending heat on momentum never stand on our feet Each stanza I demand these answers in my hand Ready for fortune and my times are for grand Just understand God these streets is murderous I know you heard of us, you ain't hurting us It's looking worse for ya, we need a hearse for ya Better quit while you're ahead or get murked in a New York minute you'll get smoked like you Newport living They want beef but MC's only be grillin' [Hook: A La $ole] [Verse 4: Joey BADA$$] Puff puff, pa** the dutchy to the righteous man Heights expand, what we like the contraband Hit the road with a conscious band Flow rugged raw sh** and Filled with intoxicants So the groupie girls pop lock it in Drop it like it's hotter than tropic land Tropacan in a can, Cancun on a can am, Dee got the cam Found yo ex on the beach, yo call me the sandman Got the queen of dancehall on a handstand Don't worry bout what car I be in it got your BM in it Dark tinted, so you can't see him in it Sharp splinters, told him it'll be a minute Of blood stains thicker than wood grain Thinking they would gain but your hood blamed Production of your environmental conception Wishin' you was let into which you was not let in Flourishing through flows that let you hours True coffee flowers for hours True MC's they move beef with cowards Me and Powers discovered our powers when we hit the sours Word to my brother STEEZ, I pack with the loudest so much green When we hit spliffs it's like we hit the lotto That's the lotto cause "Life's a b**h" is still a motto But that ain't the only reason we get high tho [Hook: Joey BADA$$] [Outro] "Local Hip Hop Group Pro Era 47 insists that they do not spray this graffiti around the neighbourhood, but they do say they designed the image and that is the number 47, they say it's meant to represent peace and balance."