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Suvi - Lost Lighters (feat. Red the Bully) Lyrics



Suvi - Lost Lighters (feat. Red the Bully) Lyrics




(Check, check, aye, yeah)

Said I grind for my shit
Get off your ass, I cannot sit
Lookin' for fake? I am not it
Lookin' for snakes? Check in the ditch
Trynna get paid, bezel my wrist
Hittin' em hard, ball up the fist
I am so flame, damn I'm so lit
Pocket the game, just like a bic

These dudes wanna lie?
Okay (okay)
That bitch wanna slide?
Okay (okay)
One five for the fire?
Okay (okay)
Off work get high?
Okay (okay)
You bite my style?
No way (no way)
Me and Red writin lines all day (all day)
You got plays but the shine all fake (all fake)
Always good like I drive Allstate (Allstate)
Got the drive, never stop, won't brake (nah)
Got the big bass that the cops gon hate (yeah)
See it in your face you relate off hate (yeah)
Bitch I make my pay in a skate off way (hey)
You a fake make bank in a Madoff way
Bitch I'll end your pay in a laid off way
Got the haze in the J's and I blaze all day
Take it straight to the face when I raise these stakes
Hey
Practice makes perfect, I just been workin
I been assertive
I just been fillin my journals with verses like pastors with sermons, I'm making em nervous
If this was a play man I gotta say thatthey ain't close to closin these curtains
Aye
These words have a purpose, they're yours to interpret and that is what I know for certain
Put my time in this shit
Every rhyme is a hit
Never know what could transpire puttin your mind to this shit
I got loud by the zip
Where's my lighter? Where's my bic?
You could never take my spot because it's mine for the grip
Cuz I

Said I grind for my shit
Get off your ass, I cannot sit
Lookin' for fake? I am not it
Lookin' for snakes? Check in the ditch
Trynna get paid, bezel my wrist
Hittin' em hard, ball up the fist
I am so flame, damn I'm so lit
Pocket the game, just like a bic

Who stole my lighter?
Whoever did better be a street fighter
Lazy as f*ck but at shows I be hyper
Feedin' off beats like a fly to a spider
Speakin' that truth, bulletproof to a liar
It do not look like I'll ever retire
Especially with all these recipes I haven't cooked and the skill I have yet to acquire
Said I grind for my shit
Need to shine for like six years
In a row
I'm outside can't just hide like a bitch
Need the money like I'm Mitch
Paid In Full off the chips
I get the bag, you in the back, probably mad, lookin' sick
Need some shine on my wrist
Leavin' you blind when it flick
Even do speakers too dirty, you heard me, no worries cuz I'm in this bitch
Lose my mind in this bitch
Do some time for this shit
I'm on my Jason flow, flippin' modes like I'm Busta Rhymes in this bitch

Said I grind for my shit
Get off your ass, I cannot sit
Lookin' for fake? I am not it
Lookin' for snakes? Check in the ditch
Trynna get paid, bezel my wrist
Hittin' em hard, ball up the fist
I am so flame, damn I'm so lit
Pocket the game, just like a bic
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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(Check, check, aye, yeah)

Said I grind for my shit
Get off your ass, I cannot sit
Lookin' for fake? I am not it
Lookin' for snakes? Check in the ditch
Trynna get paid, bezel my wrist
Hittin' em hard, ball up the fist
I am so flame, damn I'm so lit
Pocket the game, just like a bic

These dudes wanna lie?
Okay (okay)
That bitch wanna slide?
Okay (okay)
One five for the fire?
Okay (okay)
Off work get high?
Okay (okay)
You bite my style?
No way (no way)
Me and Red writin lines all day (all day)
You got plays but the shine all fake (all fake)
Always good like I drive Allstate (Allstate)
Got the drive, never stop, won't brake (nah)
Got the big bass that the cops gon hate (yeah)
See it in your face you relate off hate (yeah)
Bitch I make my pay in a skate off way (hey)
You a fake make bank in a Madoff way
Bitch I'll end your pay in a laid off way
Got the haze in the J's and I blaze all day
Take it straight to the face when I raise these stakes
Hey
Practice makes perfect, I just been workin
I been assertive
I just been fillin my journals with verses like pastors with sermons, I'm making em nervous
If this was a play man I gotta say thatthey ain't close to closin these curtains
Aye
These words have a purpose, they're yours to interpret and that is what I know for certain
Put my time in this shit
Every rhyme is a hit
Never know what could transpire puttin your mind to this shit
I got loud by the zip
Where's my lighter? Where's my bic?
You could never take my spot because it's mine for the grip
Cuz I

Said I grind for my shit
Get off your ass, I cannot sit
Lookin' for fake? I am not it
Lookin' for snakes? Check in the ditch
Trynna get paid, bezel my wrist
Hittin' em hard, ball up the fist
I am so flame, damn I'm so lit
Pocket the game, just like a bic

Who stole my lighter?
Whoever did better be a street fighter
Lazy as f*ck but at shows I be hyper
Feedin' off beats like a fly to a spider
Speakin' that truth, bulletproof to a liar
It do not look like I'll ever retire
Especially with all these recipes I haven't cooked and the skill I have yet to acquire
Said I grind for my shit
Need to shine for like six years
In a row
I'm outside can't just hide like a bitch
Need the money like I'm Mitch
Paid In Full off the chips
I get the bag, you in the back, probably mad, lookin' sick
Need some shine on my wrist
Leavin' you blind when it flick
Even do speakers too dirty, you heard me, no worries cuz I'm in this bitch
Lose my mind in this bitch
Do some time for this shit
I'm on my Jason flow, flippin' modes like I'm Busta Rhymes in this bitch

Said I grind for my shit
Get off your ass, I cannot sit
Lookin' for fake? I am not it
Lookin' for snakes? Check in the ditch
Trynna get paid, bezel my wrist
Hittin' em hard, ball up the fist
I am so flame, damn I'm so lit
Pocket the game, just like a bic
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Andrew Jackson, Henry Maysack
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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