Текст песни: Carter Son + перевод

You’re a Genius, McFly

AI

It’s the Carter’s son

The Carter’s

Turn me up a lil'

Picture me, new 3D denim, I’m city rollin' (Rollin')

But did I mention this my own clothin'?

The fuck you mean?

Made nigga, bought my own Rollie

But if them crackers pull me over, they gon' say I stole it

Good mornin', we on it, I went bought two S trophies

My father left my sis and bros, to them, I feel I owed it

But let’s not be heroic, 'cause everybody roguish

They don’t want us totin' guns, but they let the fuckin' killers tote it

Let’s take a ride and see, though, where them people be, though

Colt 45, the grip design, bought this bitch from Casino

Soprano, no Soprino, we live life like Yung Bino

Had a show in B-more, after that post on the block with Chino (I'm a hustlin'

motherfucker)

Look for a star on every hundred, C note

I’m the top on YouTube, fuck a new school, I don’t use no Vevo

These niggas 'round me, they too cruel, they bust tools and die for me, though

I don’t pay money for no life, the murder pay off me, so

Came out alright

But I’m blinded from the life, I can’t see, though

Got juveniles on the block, thirty stick hangin' out the Glock

Bandana tied 'round the clip, and they go all out for me, though

Sucked all the pain up, let’s fuck the game up

Plenty niggas on the block pushin' that rock (It's the Carter’s son)

You got your change up, they brought your name up

When it’s war, we wet they block, and when it’s said, this shit’ll never be done

I can’t say I’m fucking with all this involvement

These niggas ain’t right and they ballin'

I don’t give a fuck, no, I call up Osama, my baba

Like, «Load up and come and rob all them» (Rob all them)

Venezuela ventilator

My first trip to Georgia made 'em

Some companions with ambitions, was

Double G, NBA native

I wish baptism could’ve saved us

Never broke until the grave in

Excuse ourselves, knock on the tables

I make a pussy bite the pavement

I can’t say I’m fucking with all this involvement

These niggas ain’t right and they ballin'

I don’t give a fuck, no, I call up Osama, my baba

Like, «Load up and come and rob all them» (Rob all them)

Came out alright

But I’m blinded from the life, I can’t see, though

Got juveniles on the block, thirty stick hangin' out the Glock

Bandana tied 'round the clip, and they go all out for me, though

That’s my son, that’s my slime

He on my dime, it’s the Carter’s son

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