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The Legend Adam Bomb - 30 for 30 (feat. T-Gramz) Lyrics



The Legend Adam Bomb - 30 for 30 (feat. T-Gramz) Lyrics




The motherf*ckin' masterpiece manufacturer
Still smashin' back to back beats like a bachelor
Last of the rule breakers, psychos and screwfacers
We either headline the show or the Newspapers
Few majors lookin' at him, bruh, don't look at Adam
Look how long it's been, if you wanted him, you would've had him
Glad I'm label free, they ain't gotta pay for me
I been on the rise with no machine since Terminator 3
A & T the nicest out, switchblade slice your scalp
Think I'm sorry til I go the Bryson route
Twice the clout of any critic, quit living your miserable life in doubt
And give your wife a shout, she know what all the hype's about
The Going Price from now will skyrocket, tri-optic
Ironic when they find a bullet in your eye socket - blow
Like 'watch it', this is just a preview
10 shots will turn your whole head top see-through
The streets knew what was happenin
Rappin' when crack was in the Pits and I would mix rum with jack and gin
Started tracking hits and I got hit with traffickin
Half the fam in prison or the kitchen like Gaffigan
That was then, this forever, stuck at 5th or better
Y'aint official no more, youre f*cking Dick Bavetta
Instead of running the game you let your mouth run
Now you ain't got the muscle it takes to switch the outcome
From Round One I had the fight in the bag
They're quick to talk, I pick a spot, stick a knife in and drag
Let 'em spill their guts since they're the type that'll brag
Double the bloodshed like I hit it twice on the rag
I'll snag a bitch that spread it like it's the plague
And holds her calves in the air and keeps it open like Madison Square, yeah
30 for 30 we're the players to watch
Go ahead and ball all you want you're still taking a loss
It's Legend

30 For 30

T-Gramz
Money on the dresser, drop the compressor
Top notch hoes get the most not the lesser
Game's under pressure and I'm next like I'm Butter Love
It's Doctor Gramz, tools on the pan, snap on the rubber glove
Revive it back, scream 'Clear' til the line's beeping
Sign, speak in codes, time frozen from a crime leaking
I keep a dime piece, a chicken breast and thick thighs
Flip fries trying to get by
For the squad it's dodge why we never switch sides
The whole click pack the hooptie if the whip drive
Wet it up if the strip dry, heat, pop n fish fry
T-Dot where mans move sicker than a shit fly
Skip by your whole tape, shit was trash-made
Now I use it for my ashtray
Fast play slow runners is a fumble where I'm from
Gotta eat, what you expect when you come from the jungle
I bag a baddie like she stole from me
Soul gummy Air Max, Go for money never chose honey
Snow bunnies with the cat-eyes
She getting bread plus she wettin' up my head like I'm getting baptized
Spit crack these T-Gramz, Adam Bomb
With sticks that'll skip from behind like a tag along
I'll bag your mom and make her feel young
Nut on her face cuz she made a mistake and had a weird son
I fear none and I trust not a damn soul
Kangol feel I've been in places that you can't go
I got mad skills without the Wrap-Up
Which means my shit raw, overproof rum get you yakked up
I love this city cuz it's dirty but it's purty
ESPN episode 30 for 30
It's Gramz
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


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The motherf*ckin' masterpiece manufacturer
Still smashin' back to back beats like a bachelor
Last of the rule breakers, psychos and screwfacers
We either headline the show or the Newspapers
Few majors lookin' at him, bruh, don't look at Adam
Look how long it's been, if you wanted him, you would've had him
Glad I'm label free, they ain't gotta pay for me
I been on the rise with no machine since Terminator 3
A & T the nicest out, switchblade slice your scalp
Think I'm sorry til I go the Bryson route
Twice the clout of any critic, quit living your miserable life in doubt
And give your wife a shout, she know what all the hype's about
The Going Price from now will skyrocket, tri-optic
Ironic when they find a bullet in your eye socket - blow
Like 'watch it', this is just a preview
10 shots will turn your whole head top see-through
The streets knew what was happenin
Rappin' when crack was in the Pits and I would mix rum with jack and gin
Started tracking hits and I got hit with traffickin
Half the fam in prison or the kitchen like Gaffigan
That was then, this forever, stuck at 5th or better
Y'aint official no more, youre f*cking Dick Bavetta
Instead of running the game you let your mouth run
Now you ain't got the muscle it takes to switch the outcome
From Round One I had the fight in the bag
They're quick to talk, I pick a spot, stick a knife in and drag
Let 'em spill their guts since they're the type that'll brag
Double the bloodshed like I hit it twice on the rag
I'll snag a bitch that spread it like it's the plague
And holds her calves in the air and keeps it open like Madison Square, yeah
30 for 30 we're the players to watch
Go ahead and ball all you want you're still taking a loss
It's Legend

30 For 30

T-Gramz
Money on the dresser, drop the compressor
Top notch hoes get the most not the lesser
Game's under pressure and I'm next like I'm Butter Love
It's Doctor Gramz, tools on the pan, snap on the rubber glove
Revive it back, scream 'Clear' til the line's beeping
Sign, speak in codes, time frozen from a crime leaking
I keep a dime piece, a chicken breast and thick thighs
Flip fries trying to get by
For the squad it's dodge why we never switch sides
The whole click pack the hooptie if the whip drive
Wet it up if the strip dry, heat, pop n fish fry
T-Dot where mans move sicker than a shit fly
Skip by your whole tape, shit was trash-made
Now I use it for my ashtray
Fast play slow runners is a fumble where I'm from
Gotta eat, what you expect when you come from the jungle
I bag a baddie like she stole from me
Soul gummy Air Max, Go for money never chose honey
Snow bunnies with the cat-eyes
She getting bread plus she wettin' up my head like I'm getting baptized
Spit crack these T-Gramz, Adam Bomb
With sticks that'll skip from behind like a tag along
I'll bag your mom and make her feel young
Nut on her face cuz she made a mistake and had a weird son
I fear none and I trust not a damn soul
Kangol feel I've been in places that you can't go
I got mad skills without the Wrap-Up
Which means my shit raw, overproof rum get you yakked up
I love this city cuz it's dirty but it's purty
ESPN episode 30 for 30
It's Gramz
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: The Legend Adam Bomb
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid




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