Childish Gambino Ft. Heems – Tell Me

Letra de Tell Me de Childish Gambino y Heems

Rap rap, ahaha
Rap rap, ahaha
Hip-hop rap, ahaha
Rap, yo
From Letra-Lyrics.com

I’m a soldier, I’m a mastermind
Flashing in the flashiest fashions that the masters buy
Passersby passing me asking me if they can match this fly
Maybe with a MasterCard, ask this guy
From Letra-Lyrics.com

I got a rush card, so I gotta stunt hard
Rush limballin’ while I’m listenin’ to tune yards
Baby put your shoes on, we gon’ turn the club out
Dammit I broke my foot again, I might have to sub out
Nostalgia, ultra, you hang with vultures
Nig*a we eatin’ good like we Oprah’s roaches
Buenos noches
From Letra-Lyrics.com

Buenos días
Frida khalo, papas fritas
We eatin’ good so they think we free masons
I’m about my paper like wb mason
I’m about my paper like a staples or an office max
Never have to off a cap, makin’ money off of rap
He went from potential abortion stat
To the cat that pay his mama’s mortgage cash
Lookin’ fancy in a foreign flash
Chammomele tea that we pour with splash
From Letra-Lyrics.com

Yeah, remember Fruitopia? That shit was delicious
But snapple came back around and put ‘em out of business
Um, that’s a snapple fact, used to eat apple jacks
That’s that heems rhyme that I’m usin’ for this battle rap
Still got love for you, nothin’ like them other dudes
I am fly, you hudson news
Leave mcs with cuts and bruise
Comfortable like huxtables, but fu*k eating my vegetables
From Letra-Lyrics.com

Yo, how come they don’t sell batteries on the train no more?
I guess its cause the iPod came out
I guess its cause the iPod came out
Yeah, I’m fresher than samantha, strange man
Aguala catch me up in Walhalla, I’ll holla
I put snapple in vitamin water for two bucks
Pepsi came and bought it, for nothin’ like what the fu*k?
I’m from national wholesale liquidators
Rock bottom, odd lot and all the haters
Does benihana even sell wontons?
Donald just put me on a bonton
From Letra-Lyrics.com

Yes I did man, I goddamn did
I’m five foot ten, I might just win
I’m tryin’ not to die like them
Laid out in the street like Mr. Hooper, nig*a
I remember havin’ to eat two scoops for dinner
But it’s all good, post Obama and post ye
Three six got an Oscar, it’s all okay
Man, I beg your pardon, Trayvon Martin
Atlanta is my home, but we treated like Martians
I used to be a square like a Marlboro carton
Like, nig*as wasn’t callin’ me nig*a like last week
Only nig*a in some liquor brown pants as we speak
Yeah, Gambino say it twice, atm machine, nawmean
Letra / Lyrics