Spika – Cruditè

Spika – Cruditè Lyrics

Artist: Spika
Song: Cruditè

‘Sti rapper ti sembrano criminali
Non sono dei criminali
Vestiti da criminali
Mai stati incriminati

Amici dagli Emirati
Tra arabi ed emigrati tu credi pure ai miracoli
Cristo guardaci le spalle anche se sono larghe
Ho scritto lettere al carcere e non so che farne

Sto per strada tra i bar, non ho un buon partner
E le ginocchia sul parquet
Venti carte
24 su 24, qui diventi matto

Metti in atto
Ho il flow così grosso che non entra in griglia
‘Sta tipa mi ama ma la scopo, vorrebbe una figlia
[x2

Smith Wesson sul cozzo
Ti apro come cozze
Avevo cose nei boxer
Chiuso nei box

Fogli bianchi riempiono il tuo culo bianco
Studio un piano pеr fottervi piano
Fumo questa dal decimo piano
Push-up, dеvo essere tonico

A te ti metto a cuccia
Come se mi corico
Prima alzavo pesi
Senza bilancieri

Col mito dei bilancini e l’incubo dei finanzieri
Okay
Scrivo, ho la mia Chronicle
Luci blu, Sony

Sono supersonico
Ascolto ancora
Flow malato cronico
Tu invece parli troppo, sembri logorroico

Palazzi di sei piani, vengo dai piani alti
Adesso stringo mani per stringere patti
So che non mi vedi perché ho acceso gli abbaglianti
Case popolari, stendini comunicanti

Non chiedere permesso, non avere rimpianti
Bottiglie di Chianti riempite coi pianti
Mio fratello pianta semi
Spera nel raccolto

Io invece faccio il rapper, ciò che vedo lo racconto
[x2
Smith Wesson sul cozzo
Ti apro come cozze

Avevo cose nei boxer
Chiuso nei box
Fogli bianchi riempiono il tuo culo bianco
Studio un piano per fottervi piano

Fumo questa dal decimo piano
Find more lyrics at https://dcslyrics.com

Cruditè Lyrics – English Translation

‘STI rapper seem criminals
They are not criminals
Criminal dresses
Never been incriminated

Friends from the Emirates
Between Arabs and emigrated you also believe to miracles
Christ Look for us the shoulders even if they are wide
I wrote letters to the prison and I don’t know what to do

I’m on the street between the bars, I don’t have a good partner
And the knees on the parquet
Twenty cards
24 out of 24, here you become crazy

Put into action
I have the flow so big that does not enter the grid
‘Sta Tipa loves me but the purpose would like a daughter
[X2

Smith Wesson on Cozzo
I open you as mussels
I had things in the boxers
Closed in the boxes

White sheets fill your white #ss
Studio a piano pеr f#ck you plan
Smoke this from the tenth floor
Push-up, I have to be tonic

I’ll put you a kitchen
As if I corice
First raised weights
Barbell

With the myth of the lines and the nightmare of the financiers
Okay
I write, I have my chronicle
Blue lights, Sony

I am supersonic
I still listen to
Chronic ill Flow
Instead you talk too much, you look like a logorroic

Six floats, I come from the high floors
Now I hold hands to tighten pacts
I know you don’t see me why I turned the dazzling
Popular houses, communicating stages

Don’t ask permission, don’t have regrets
Bottles of Chianti filled with plants
My brother seeds plant
Hope in the harvest

I do the rapper instead, what I see the story
[X2
Smith Wesson on Cozzo
I open you as mussels

I had things in the boxers
Closed in the boxes
White sheets fill your white #ss
Studio a plan to f#ck you plan

Smoke this from the tenth floor
Find more lyrics at https://dcslyrics.com

Spika Lyrics – Cruditè

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Release Year: 2016