300 YEARS, 48 MONTHS, 15 CENTURIES Lyrics by Wilcon
Free Carlos
2021
[Intro] "Next question gentlemen What is the one thing The people on the other side of your street have more of than you do?" "Cars." "Cars, your wife said they have more, more grass than you do." "Grass, what?" "I wouldn't bet on that" [Part 1: 300 YEARS] Ain’t nobody Got more grass than I do Ain’t nobody Act more crass than I do Ain’t nobody Pass more class in high school I was like 45 Michael I was gonna go ham Whoa fam Rochambeau Gotta get my life To a new plateau White beard, lil’ chubby Rapping ho’, ho’ ho’ Ain’t Santa, Dawn Penn homie No, no, no I’m like a substitute teacher And I demand silence Your pеrsonality needs lotion Cause it’s dry bitch I’ll be surrounded By a wholе lot of fly shit But it’s crazy I don’t wanna be a pilot Old ass man immune system Need some Metamucil Your ass prolly put the fossil Into fossil fuel People say I’m getting old (I wouldn’t bet on that) Chief Keef, like 300 at 19 I’d bet on that too Used to play receiver But I never really played Time’s going slow And going fast What I gotta say? [Part 2: 48 MONTHS] Yeah! Despite being so slow A sense of urgency Out a burning building Walk like no emergency How he rap How he rap like that? Took me 48 months glitching I don’t know how to act Yeah This is how we do it right here, look Uh Ginger ale Skin pale Yard sale Made bail Made plans Ship sail Cats dogs Rain hail Tell me bout it Rowdy rebel Rabble rouser Kickin’ it Ronda Rousey Never cared Nothing wows me Hot 97, like the desert degrees I’ve gon Lo Hill, though post Fugees I don’t act how I’m supposed to be And my skin look like I’ve seen a ghost or three I’m Super Mario Smoking on Luigi Rest in peace Black Mamba And his little daughter GiGi And the rest on the chopper On that fateful day Man I hate to say But me rapping over songs With the 808s Ain’t gon' bring them back But neither will this song Because death is whack Rest in peace triple X And my favorite rapper Mac Got like 67 pages of names On front and back [Part 3: 15 CENTURIES] I feel like Mars Blackmon But I’m on Uranus I’m on A-List You on ABCDEFGHIJ list I mess around with different letters That doesn’t mean that I OK it What do you have to say, bitch? I wouldn’t be surprised If these raps would uncage us Might enrage us If this album doesn’t make me Fuckin’ famous I’ve been through wildfires Blizzards, hurricanes I experienced a thunderstorm While flying on a plane once! [Chorus: Ethel Ennis & WILCON ] Love for sale Ladies and gentlemen, Max Crowe made this beat Appetizing young love for sale Gotta shout out the homie [Verse 2] My fifteen centuries of fame starts now Imma be historical That’s not a question So there’s no way it’s rhetorical Boy your shit is horrible Why I got your girl And she calling me adorable My jacket got that drip So much it’s pourable I see the future Through a mothafuckin' oracle The forests are on fire And a bunch of dead coral bro More than all that Nobody’s got morals though Damn
About “300 YEARS, 48 MONTHS, 15 CENTURIES” by Wilcon
Read the complete lyrics to "300 YEARS, 48 MONTHS, 15 CENTURIES" by Wilcon from the album "Free Carlos" in 2021. On Lyrks you can follow along with the full text, explore the artist's discography, and discover related songs. The track is often categorized under Rap.
"300 YEARS, 48 MONTHS, 15 CENTURIES" is performed by Wilcon. from the album "Free Carlos" in 2021 This page provides the full lyric text for fans who want to sing along, study the songwriting, or compare versions across releases. Lyrks organizes lyrics by artist and song slug so you can bookmark and share a stable URL.
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"300 YEARS, 48 MONTHS, 15 CENTURIES" is credited to Wilcon. Songwriting credits may include additional writers listed on the release; check the credits section on this page for linked collaborators.
"300 YEARS, 48 MONTHS, 15 CENTURIES" appears on "Free Carlos" in 2021.
Visit the Wilcon artist page at /artist/wilcon for biography, popular tracks, and links to more lyric pages.
