Swift is mystic, gifted pen grip
No shit, Sherlock - flow spit burn blocks
Go get your Glock if you wanna pop shit
Cuz on this rap tip, man, you better stop it
You outta your gourd, I'm out of this world
I'm not of this world, I sweat diamonds and pearls
I mean, I drip jewels but they are not for the swine
Your style hotter than mine? That sounds outta control
I exhale, my breath sails you outta your soul
I body rock like earth, you dead weight in space
Take ten paces off the edge of a cliff
And take note of nobility, no bull shit
That's on Osiris, I don't pull quick
Baby, I like it raw - uh - my mic was formed
From the fossils of phony apostles
Whose very being was jostled by peace, not hostile
Sit still, shit's real
I give life but y'all be swearing that Swift kills
Sick skills, stomp stage, rip bills
Get bills, flip bills, never sniffed pills
Never shot crack, never smoked xans
Not a fan of strip clubs, I don't throw bands
Not a young buck, not a old man
I procure the dope jams, people go damn
Fasho, solo, man, bolo yo' whole clan
Dolo for dough, improvised so no plans
I hope for mo' fans than Yoko Ono's mans
Whose ashes were spread in my city
10 years ago, I was almost head of my city
Yeah, I moved but still don't put nothin ahead of my city
I swore that I would be breaded as Diddy, but I dropped the ball
Instead of rap, I should've invested in alcohol
You heard of this, superlative journalist
Apex editor, straight wreck tournaments
Rose gold medalist, meddle with medicine
Music is an alchemical element
I'll drudge the dregs and the sediment
Reconstitute it and reconstruct the edifice sans embellishment
Pure like the recollections of an elephant
With eloquence I represent elegant ghetto shit
Deluxe laces in Timberland boots
Sipping Old English out of champagne flutes
Used to rock gold fronts with a whole suite
If it ain't about no loot, it don't compute
Test me, you don't want to
My whole one-two is so un cute
I get ugly like no one do
This ain't rap, I'm just lettin' my soul run through
M.C. K~swift - No Games Lyrics
M.C. K~swift - No Games Lyrics
Official
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
English
Swift is mystic, gifted pen grip
No shit, Sherlock - flow spit burn blocks
Go get your Glock if you wanna pop shit
Cuz on this rap tip, man, you better stop it
You outta your gourd, I'm out of this world
I'm not of this world, I sweat diamonds and pearls
I mean, I drip jewels but they are not for the swine
Your style hotter than mine? That sounds outta control
I exhale, my breath sails you outta your soul
I body rock like earth, you dead weight in space
Take ten paces off the edge of a cliff
And take note of nobility, no bull shit
That's on Osiris, I don't pull quick
Baby, I like it raw - uh - my mic was formed
From the fossils of phony apostles
Whose very being was jostled by peace, not hostile
Sit still, shit's real
I give life but y'all be swearing that Swift kills
Sick skills, stomp stage, rip bills
Get bills, flip bills, never sniffed pills
Never shot crack, never smoked xans
Not a fan of strip clubs, I don't throw bands
Not a young buck, not a old man
I procure the dope jams, people go damn
Fasho, solo, man, bolo yo' whole clan
Dolo for dough, improvised so no plans
I hope for mo' fans than Yoko Ono's mans
Whose ashes were spread in my city
10 years ago, I was almost head of my city
Yeah, I moved but still don't put nothin ahead of my city
I swore that I would be breaded as Diddy, but I dropped the ball
Instead of rap, I should've invested in alcohol
You heard of this, superlative journalist
Apex editor, straight wreck tournaments
Rose gold medalist, meddle with medicine
Music is an alchemical element
I'll drudge the dregs and the sediment
Reconstitute it and reconstruct the edifice sans embellishment
Pure like the recollections of an elephant
With eloquence I represent elegant ghetto shit
Deluxe laces in Timberland boots
Sipping Old English out of champagne flutes
Used to rock gold fronts with a whole suite
If it ain't about no loot, it don't compute
Test me, you don't want to
My whole one-two is so un cute
I get ugly like no one do
This ain't rap, I'm just lettin' my soul run through
No shit, Sherlock - flow spit burn blocks
Go get your Glock if you wanna pop shit
Cuz on this rap tip, man, you better stop it
You outta your gourd, I'm out of this world
I'm not of this world, I sweat diamonds and pearls
I mean, I drip jewels but they are not for the swine
Your style hotter than mine? That sounds outta control
I exhale, my breath sails you outta your soul
I body rock like earth, you dead weight in space
Take ten paces off the edge of a cliff
And take note of nobility, no bull shit
That's on Osiris, I don't pull quick
Baby, I like it raw - uh - my mic was formed
From the fossils of phony apostles
Whose very being was jostled by peace, not hostile
Sit still, shit's real
I give life but y'all be swearing that Swift kills
Sick skills, stomp stage, rip bills
Get bills, flip bills, never sniffed pills
Never shot crack, never smoked xans
Not a fan of strip clubs, I don't throw bands
Not a young buck, not a old man
I procure the dope jams, people go damn
Fasho, solo, man, bolo yo' whole clan
Dolo for dough, improvised so no plans
I hope for mo' fans than Yoko Ono's mans
Whose ashes were spread in my city
10 years ago, I was almost head of my city
Yeah, I moved but still don't put nothin ahead of my city
I swore that I would be breaded as Diddy, but I dropped the ball
Instead of rap, I should've invested in alcohol
You heard of this, superlative journalist
Apex editor, straight wreck tournaments
Rose gold medalist, meddle with medicine
Music is an alchemical element
I'll drudge the dregs and the sediment
Reconstitute it and reconstruct the edifice sans embellishment
Pure like the recollections of an elephant
With eloquence I represent elegant ghetto shit
Deluxe laces in Timberland boots
Sipping Old English out of champagne flutes
Used to rock gold fronts with a whole suite
If it ain't about no loot, it don't compute
Test me, you don't want to
My whole one-two is so un cute
I get ugly like no one do
This ain't rap, I'm just lettin' my soul run through
Writer: Anthony Scott
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Anthem Entertainment
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Anthem Entertainment