History in the making.
History in the making.
History in the making.
When I shoot, I shoot.
When I rap, I rap.
I keep going to school while I'm tackling the crowd.
It's Mr. President, B.B.D Gang.
We're gonna be big, big, big.
We have empty hands and hands.
I'm the big boss.
In your pants and wigs and thugs.
It's for those big dogs.
The only number one player who's also a coach.
The one who screams with a bar while you scream on the road.
Call me Jesus for the rap gang.
It's like Moses' dog.
Rap fake, they dead.
So I just *** my breath.
My butt, the bust, the cred.
Go to sleep, knock on bed.
I'm rough, I'm set, I'm young.
Big bro,
big bro.
What?
No doubt, chief, we're the rap gang.
The same coach,
the same crew,
who does moves on the DL.
It's our funk line, our bomb sound line.
It's Junktown music for your chump bounce.
Big brother team, number one, what a bully, yo.
It's no school, but it's you too.
The big group is so.
Film with us.
It's the same *.
History in the making by the mixtape kings.
The build is for the heads because it's them who decide.
It's success, it's the scene.
We're also making five years of visits.
It's for the dudes as much as the masses if we keep the flow.
Signing off, Jake * Gabe.
People show the *.
Big bro, big bro.
What?
Big bro, big bro.
What?
Big bro,
big bro.
What?
History
in the making.
There's no rap gang.
Don't be afraid of the fake.
Don't respect André Chibou.
You'll come back,
you'll take advantage when the rap gang is established.
And don't forget my thanks for tracing the voice.
What you think is really pierced with your style.
You're far from all the people like the high-rises.
You give me more headache like a ride too tight.
Your flow is snowing in the world.
It's rare to find me.
It's said that you're the best.
The best is nothing to prove.
Prove it.
Personally,
I don't care if it's top 10 or top 100.
It's nothing when you're number one.
Too top self.
Top sure.
Big bro, big bro.
What?
Big bro, big bro.
What?
We killed
the book.
It's about killing with the curse.
We're on the spot, gang.
The BBT ends first.
We're flapping, it's normal.
We're attacking since 12.
Plus, we're ready to fight back.
Touch the sky, it's a jetpack.
Big bro.
There's no gender identity.
We're more than fanatics.
More than hybrids.
We're breaking plastic.
We're not done yet.
So when you see me, stop acting.
Or the movie ends badly.
No doubt.
Call me slick because I hit you like a sick.
I keep your cards, put your split.
I make marks with my six.
Ha! No but yeah.
In the end, I don't care about the rank.
I have a key.
I'm just doing this for fun.
I'm a little glitch.
Big bro,
big bro.
What?
Big bro, big bro.
What?
Big bro, big bro.
What?
Big bro, big bro.
What?
Big bro, big bro.
What?