Journalist When It Comes To This Shit Lyrics

When It Comes To This Shit Lyrics

[Verse 1 - Journalist]

Ay yo, its Journalist nigga even on my nicer days

I heat you up spin you round, call me microwave

Skate off like at an Ice Capade

with the type of guage that bring the cops out like parades

Leave your family in the triage, second guessin

graf artist, I'm good with sketchin weapons

Leave emancipations for lacerations

With bunks to gun a pump like I'm half Jamaican

You know the flow fascinatin

Nigga I'm so sharp, when I walk I scratch the pavement

I aim this gat right for your ways

then I go to your mom's house to give her all types of bouquets

or I can paralyze half of ya

You don't wanna see your kids laugh at ya

when they see you peein through a catheter

However you want it, you can have it your way

Capital J, and never use a gat for display



[Chorus x2 - Journalist]

When it comes to this shit here

Y'all the type to sit there

I'm soon to rock that road, crotched in the big chair

Studded up crown with forty below wristwear

Prove y'all clowns couldn't fuck with the flow this year



[Verse 2 - Journalist]

Ay yo, heres a few promises

turn y'all to vomitters

with different types of heaters if the waste got thermometers

Niggas wanna climb with us

Crazy World conglomerate

Philadelphi dominant

comin through the monitors

My chumps beat you like drums, quite severe

Then I fuck around and follow up, just like the snear

I don't think you in the right career

Maybe you should go back to cross dressin and them tight brazeers

Cause y'all niggas ride mine, worryin bout my shine

Stay on the sideline and work with the pom-poms

Throw some rounds throw your arm or confetti your sleve

When I'm in town, the sheriffs and the deputies leave

Nigga I ain't got respect for you please

You ain't sittin on dough, you fallin off like sesame seeds

Cause you can't bear pressure

if you don't wear vestes

Crime unit find you I hope they got air freshners



[Chorus x2]



[Verse 3 - Journalist]

Yo when the gat is in my distance

I have you datin fishes

Your wive tears drippin on your graduation pictures

Clutch glocks and what not

rush spots, fuck cops

I got enough shots to get cuz' block dustmopped

When I stop the beamer

Cock the neener

Blood'll pour to the pavement like its Aquafina

Come out on bail, fallin up the cops' subpeana

Come back around, send more shots between ya

Bullets burnin up your femur

Turn into screamers

from uppercut swings of the permanent leaner

Cause the guns I squeeze 'em

If I shoot 'em just once like James Ingram

Watch his brains leave him

I'll be shinin my toys 'til the lost boys

You rather see me sit in the can like Altoids

Ock, I'm on the block, gettin narcs annoyed

Passin out rocks like the Sixers ball boy

Its Journ!



[Chorus x2]