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Donald Glover

WorldStar – Donald Glover

[Verse 1:]
Blow up
World Star befo’ rap, you already know that
So Fresh Prince they about to bring the show back
Listening to Kilo, weekend cost a kilo
Hair so long, I’m about to bring the fro back
Phone call gotta say “Moshi moshi” (Moshi moshi)
Girlfriend actin’ all wishy-washy (wishy-washy)
It’s your birthday, make it earthquake
Fell in love with a nigga like a mermaid (Daddy, I love him!)
That’s a first date, nobody think about it, worst case
Best case, we the front page, 10K on the first day
Yeah, mothafucka, take your phone out
To record this, ain’t nobody can ignore this
I’m more or less a moral-less individual
Making movies with criminals, tryin’ to get them residuals
When it all go crazy, when I hear that action, I’m a be Scorsese
My nigga hold it horizontal man, be professional (Worldstar!)

[Verse 2:]
My girl ain’t bad, she more like evil
When I’m lookin’ in the mirror, how fly’s this negro?
She on Hollywood and Vine, thinkin’ that she Hollywood on Vine
Makin’ movies with her friends all the time
Showin’ off her ass, that’s a net twerk
But I saw through it like a wet shirt
Drive slow cause you might swerve off it
Still eat and the hate so salty
Put shrooms in my roommate’s coffee
And got more likes than a white girl talking
More hits than a fight comp, where they fight cops ’til they stop
When I heard shots, watching dude drop from a Glock at a [Shots fired]
Let me flash on ’em, we all big brother now
Lil’ sis, let her run around, money talking, you know the sound
Brrrr, money counter, brrrr, AK, brrrr, cell phone, brrrr, hello?

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[Interlude – Steve G. Lover:]
Yo, bro man, check out that video I just sent you, man. This shit’s hilarious, man. It’s like this kid, man, he got like, he got like hit on the side of the head, man, he’s like freakin’ out. Like, it’s like… [inaudible]

[Outro:]
We don’t wanna be on (Worldstar!)
And all I wanna be is a (Worldstar!)

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Donald Glover

The Crawl (Feat. Kai) – Donald Glover

Lirik lagu: The Crawl (Feat. Kai)

[Hook: Kai]
Where we were kinda thing
Bet she crawl, all alone
Where we were kinda thing
Bet she crawl, all alone
Where we were kinda thing
Bet she crawl, all alone
Where we were kinda thing
Bet she crawl, all alone

[Verse 1:]
Who am I?
Rec League, I ain’t paying to ball
Y’all B-string like a broke guitar
And I still put it down like the family dog
Yeah, I murder some, I murder one
Explain it all, Ferguson
We ain’t gotta sing the same old love song
Cut a white girl with the same black gloves on
Yeah, what you saying to it?
Old money look, no money don’t do it
Make ’em turn around in their lane like a U-ey
And I’m only looking back if I’m looking at her booty
(At her boooty) What’s the rationale?
They wanna smoke niggas when they Black & Mild
So we acting out (Okay, cool)

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
(Blue dream by the bouquet ’til I’m blue-faced on a Tuesday)
Can I have some? #NiggasBeLike
Put a +18 on a e-vite
And I said what I felt, no re-write
Nah nah, they can’t hold me
June/July, drop something
I double dare you, I’m Marc Summers
I scorch winters, I burn autumns
Gut niggas, so Kurt Vonne
Elle Varner, got a crush on her
I gotta wait in line for that
Ain’t nobody got time for that
Ain’t nobody gotta rhyme with that
Too true like it’s 2 Chainz
Blue blood like he both gangs

[Hook]

READ  Me and Your Mama - Donald Glover
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Donald Glover

R.I.P (Feat. Bun B) – Donald Glover

Lirik lagu: R.I.P (Feat. Bun B)

[Verse 1: Bun-B]
Late ass nights come from long days
Doin’ all the right things in the wrong ways
Doin’ all the wrong shit for the right reasons
Sprinklin’ midnight game, call it night seasoning
Haters get salty give ’em cholesterol
Trill O.G, mop up the floor with the best of y’all
Then dry that bitch off with the rest of y’all
And catch a flight to Rio de Janeiro for la festival
Yeah, and that’s word to fit a baldy
Ball hard like I see menace out of my Spalding
And I’ll break your face with a no look pass
Now back to your parking lot pimp with yo little hook ass
I use harsh words cause these are hard times
And trill-ass people, nowadays they’re such a hard find
So it’s when I open if I could keep ’em
And one on the scope, so if they frontin’ I can sleep ’em
Man, my flow is so parabolic
The energy’ll blow you over even if you’re Broly
Goddamn it, now that’s one for the Googlers
That fell asleep on they desk and never step their noogle up
Takin’ lames out never been new to us
The hardest part of this shit is figurin’ which of you to bust
Then step your weight up like GNC
And R.I.P. to Chris Luda reppin’ CNC
Straight G

[Hook x2]
There’s somethin’ inside you
It’s hard to explain
They’re talking about you boy
But you’re still the same

[Verse 2: Childish Gambino]
Rest in peace to them niggas who was dead wrong
Toni Braxton to them niggas, that’s a sad song
Cry a river Timberlake, the whole industry
Record the whole album in my living room in Italy
Niggas who wasn’t feelin’ me secretly want a handout
Keep your mouth shut, I can probably help your man out
Drop a new stack all lames get to steppin’
Drop a new track all blogs go to heaven
Kill the web, man these niggas need they hits up
Kiss her neck, add a dime to the tip cup
She is not “slut,” fuck a dude who says so
Just because she fuckin’ doesn’t mean she ain’t a lady
Kill the whole stage, I never needed a mic check
Semen on my spacebar, fuckin’ tired of Skype sex
Runnin’ with a new breed, me and Bun B
This hip-hop nation, that big country
Nigga please! We ain’t stop for no one
Wu-Tang Generator name, I’m a shōgun
Wu-Tang Generator name, watch him smoke one
Talk a lot of sh*t, but none of them will approach him
Gambino got first position, the game is ballet
So graceful; drive, he don’t need a valet
So angel: fly as I wanna be
Mercy, somebody show these niggas can’t hurt me
Woah

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[Hook x2]
There’s somethin’ inside you
It’s hard to explain
They’re talking about you boy
But you’re still the same

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Donald Glover

Bronchitis – Donald Glover

Fiji water and a box of old Raisinets
I got a real taste for dyin’ but I ain’t do it yet
I tried to watch The Artist with my girlfriend
But instead I lost the battle with some NyQuil
Playing Double Dribble with my older cousin
Now I’m ballin’ everyday so dude that’s gotta stand for something
But it doesn’t change the subject
Man, I’m hustlin’, sandals cuttin’ up
My ankles, please and thank you
Demons hate you when you angel
Never been to prison, but I serve a sentence
Grind when you –
I’m sharin’ experiments with Seventh Day Adventists
And on the seventh day, I’ma show y’all what the event is
Dollar signs, bottom line
Speak the truth and everybody gon’ hate you
Unless it’s funny
That’s how I used to make money
I don’t roll with the old, yeah they want something from me
Why the flow so dummy, why do hoes still love me?
I don’t know, don’t bug me
I’m patron or bubbly or power, old culture
Ain’t nobody sober
My mama don’t drink but she kill me over soda
Damn homie, man you famous like Kony
My cousin bang Camp man (My cousin bang Camp man)
ATLien made it myself about a month
Just enough to get, to get my rows in a duck
Just enough to make a faithful man wanna fuck
Girls be tweetin’ me their pictures, man I gotta look
And most of ’em couldn’t handle the panels in my comic’s book
This rapper’s book, this writer’s book
They kinda shook
It’s not a hook

[Interlude]

[Hook]
I be killin’ every nigga with bronchitises
I be killin’ every nigga with bronchitises

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