Drake - Knife Talk (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
Search, synchronize, and download lyrics in LRC and SRT formats for YouTube music videos by videoID or Title.
You can preview or test subtitles before downloading them.
Note: Some words may be censored. This is for preview only.
You will receive the uncensored version when you download it.
(optional) Use the buttons below or the keyboard shortcuts "G" or "H" to adjust subtitle synchronization before downloading.
The available subtitles for the media will be listed below.
When available, click to load or test subtitles from the list below.
Note: Some words may be censored. This is for preview only.
You will receive the uncensored version when you download it.
Drake - Knife Talk (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
I gotta feed the streets, my pistol
gon' bleed the streets
Ski mask on my face, sometimes
you got to cheat
To stay ahead in this bitch-ard (Gang),
drank syrup like it's liquor
Street life'll have you catchin'
up to God quicker (Yeah, gang)
Sticker, AK-40 to your liver
Let the chopper bang on you like
a Blood or a Cripper (Gang)
Flipper, so much bread, I'm a gymnast
Made so much money off of dummies,
off of dummies (Yeah, gang)
I'm mister body catcher, Slaughter
Gang soul snatcher
Ain't no regular F-150,
this a fuckin' Raptor
No capper, street nigga, not a rapper
Chopper hit him and he turned
into a booty clapper
Smith & Wesson, I'm 4L Gang reppin'
We done baptized morе niggas than
the damn reverеnd (Yeah)
Kappa Alpha, me and my gang,
we do all the steppin'
Who you checkin'? This FN shoot
East to West End (Gang)
Yeah
I heard Papi outside
And he got the double-R droppy outside
Checked the weather and it's
gettin' real oppy outside
I'ma drop this shit and have
these pussies droppin'
like some motherfuckin'
Type of nigga that can't
look me in the eyes
I despise
When I see you, better put that
fuckin' pride to the side
Many times, plenty times, I survived
Beef is live, spoiler alert,
this nigga dies
Keep blickies, and you
know the weed sticky
My finger itchy, the Glock
like to leave hickeys
Your shooters iffy, a street
punk could never diss me
I come straight up out the 6,
and we don't spare sissies
I fuck with her, and fuck
with her, and her
I hit up err and tell him
do the err, for sure
Voodoo curse, it got him
while I flew to Turks
Know the dogs had to hit them
where we knew it hurts
Gang shit, that's all I'm on (Yeah)
Gang shit, that's all I'm on
Nigga, gang shit, that's all I'm on
Let it bang, bang, let it bang, bang
'Til his brains hang and his mama sang
And the pastor sang and
them bullets sang
And them choppers sang
and the choir sang
I'm on everything
Jacob charged me four-fifty
for a tennis chain
US Open, had it on us
at the tennis game
Tell the coach don't take me
out, I like to finish games
And my pen insane, and my men insane
There's like eighty of us now,
that's the scary thing
Shit they doin' on that other
side embarrassing
We in Paris with it, hundred
carats with it
All this shit is for my son,
'cause he's inheritin' it
Gang shit, that's all I'm on, yeah
Please support me on PATREON Thank you!