Letra de ' Pressin’ My Bunk (feat. Harry Fraud) ' de Boldy James

(La música de Harry Fraud)

Scar tissue, what was left from that AR pistol
Sunflower seeds everywhere, look like a shark bit you (Grrt)
Bob Vila with the tool, keep a power drill (It's a drill)
I feel like Meechie, cookin' up in a pair of Foams (Free the guys)
Gucci Adidas with the creatures, tryna bear the storm (227)
Same lil' Moochie off of Belvidere and Warren (Eastside)
I drop a nickel, they gon' smack you by end of the week (DOA)
Another dimed, he ain't gon' get to live to see the morning (Not at all)
Niggas out here holdin' on by the skin of their teeth
While I'm at the table hookin' up, settin' dinner for three
All of these starships and rockets, feel like outer space (Yeah)
Foreigns double-parked all on your block, shit look out of place
Before the clock struck noon, I ran up a bankie
Twistin' up a sixty-two, wrist hella janky (Skrrt, skrrt)
Caught a flight on Grand River, had to call Perky
In the spig with my killers and we all scurry

This new shit'll make your toes curl
Brick of him and her, know we got the best of both worlds (Yeah)
Movie clip reels, ghetto Steven Spielberg (Uh-huh)
Curbside service, tell 'em: Pull up to the self-serve (Pull up)
Good dope sell itself on them trail ways (A1)
Murder-for-hire, had to pick me up a skill tray
Did what I had to do to get the bills paid (Where we at?)
Pressin' my bunk, daydreamin' 'bout the big stage

This shit was all a blur
It get so cold in the D, I went and bought a fur (Too chilly)
Highbridge to Vallejo, I got ghetto love (Real stripes)
For sellin' drugs, niggas made it do what it do
Unless you talkin' codeine, don't do medicinal
Nine zips on the scale, that's a two-fifty-two (A quarter brickie)
Cash and carry, I can never do municipal (Nah)
Fresh up out that boot camp click, I'm the new Mystikal (Stay dangerous)
Still'll rape a nigga village like I came to pillage
Still'll take a nigga face he don't pay his ticket (Real killer)
Hands-on with the bag, know I'm tray specific (Hands-on)
Exchangin' cash for goods and ancient artifacts (Where we at?)
Had a Chrome Heart attack, went into cardiac (Jack God)
Sold him a fistful of beans, that's a party pack
Don't get me started, drop a fifty on your starter cap (Uh)
Started with a sixty, now the bag big as Farmer Jack

This new shit'll make your toes curl
Brick of him and her, know we got the best of both worlds (Yeah)
Movie clip reels, ghetto Steven Spielberg (Uh-huh)
Curbside service, tell 'em: Pull up to the self-serve (Pull up)
Good dope sell itself on them trail ways (A1)
Murder-for-hire, had to pick me up a skill tray
Did what I had to do to get the bills paid (Where we at?)
Pressin' my bunk, daydreamin' 'bout the big stage