J.R. Writer - What Set You Claim Lyrics

Artist: J.R. Writer Lyrics
Popularity : 42 users have visited this page.
Album: Track 8 on Writer's Block 4
Rate: What Set You Claim gets avg. rating 6 out of 10 based on 1 ratings. Rate the song now!!!


Chorus:
I've been doing this consistant, I ain't never changed
Every studio I visit it was set in flames (FIRE)
If you respect the game, get your money, F the fame
Twist up your your fingers nigga let 'em know what set you claim, hey
I'm from the back blocks of harlem, where they Mac and revolve 'em
If he ask for a problem, walk up in the building clack up and rob 'em
Harlem nigga, the men in black couldn't guard 'em
Verse 1:
(hey) I'm in the Rover grinding wit' a couple older women
And all the windows down just so you can know I'm winning (yea thats me)
But if the doja trippin' trust there wont be no avenges (why)
I'll put you all in trunks, like you niggas going swimming (blaat)
Get you off quick, for the slow dough I'm spendin' (what's dat?)
You'll see a row of henchmen (when?) soon as I throw a lincoln
Not to overmention nigga you was cheap (why)
If you cripple me, I'd still be on my feet
Llyircally I'm heat, turn these creeps into dirt garbage (basura)
I got that hunger that you had when you first started
Hood to the burbs (suburbs) hardest truly a G (who?)
JR writer that nigga you salute when you see, cuz
Chorus:
I've been doing this consistant, I ain't never changed
Every studio I visit it was set in flames (FIRE)
If you respect the game, get your money, F the fame
Twist up your your fingers nigga let 'em know what set you claim, hey
I'm from the back blocks of harlem, where they Mac and revolve 'em
If he ask for a problem, walk up in the building clack up and rob 'em
Harlem nigga, the men in black couldn't guard 'em
Verse 2:
I'm a diplomat OG, you's a midget scrap stop
'Fore this fifth or Mac pop, sit you in a black box
Got my fitted cap twisted back, in the lac drop
Theres some chick i mack, in the back givin that top
I'm a smooth mothafucka, with Killa rap props
The kid is trash not, I am skipping past hot
You ain't spittin crack rock, new airs with the see-through fronts, chump (why?)
So you can see my diplomat socks ha
You ain't heard of who? i skip by in convertibles
At Summer Jam performing for 50,000, where were you?
Fuck what they said, you forever a biter
And ain't got enough swag to be better then Writer, cuz
Chorus:
I've been doing this consistant, I ain't never changed
Every studio I visit it was set in flames (FIRE)
If you respect the game, get your money, F the fame
Twist up your your fingers nigga let 'em know what set you claim, hey
I'm from the back blocks of harlem, where they Mac and revolve 'em
If he ask for a problem, walk up in the building clack up and rob 'em
Harlem nigga, the men in black couldn't guard 'em


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