Fan Mail - B.o.B

Letra de Fan Mail, canción donde B.o.B interpreta uno de los temas que más suenan en el albúm Ether. Si te gusta la buena musica y te apasiona conocer letras de canciones de B.o.B no te pierdas este single llamado Fan Mail, no querras parar de escucharlo.

Letra Fan Mail - B.o.B

B.o.B canta la cancion Fan Mail dentro de su album Ether, os dejamos con la letra de Fan Mail para que la podais disfrutar. En el menu teneis mas letras del album Ether y de B.o.B.

What's up with this
faggot? Fuck is with this
nigga? Why is he still
rapping? He even wears
the fashion Shut us up to
make him pop commercials
smashes Seriously That's
why people don't take you
seriously That's why we don't wanna hear nothin'
you say 'Cause you ain't
the man that you appear
to be No, nigga,
seriously We don't wanna
hear your conspiracies
And we don't wanna hear
your political views
'bout extraterrestrial
activities Look, nigga,
make up your mind How
much longer you gon' wait
to decide? You was
kickin' some dangerous
lines Now buyin' your
shit a waste of my time
Nigga, what's up with
you? That's why all my
niggas don't fu*kwith you
And that's why we don't
come to your after
parties 'Cause we don't
wanna hang in the club
with you It's only two
types of niggas A street
nigga and a you type of
nigga A coon type of
nigga Prolly born with a
noose, and a silver spoon
type of nigga A new type
of nigga A sell out
surrounded by wealth You
should have been one of
the greats Now you just
sound like everyone else
Hello? Ah, what are you
doin'? What are you
doin'? You losin' your
[ De: https://www.dicelacancion.com/letra/bob/fan-mail ]
cool, fan basin' your
viewers Let me show you
how to flow, show you how
to make music Obviously
you clueless, how I know?
'Cause I'm Jewish Oh, is
that unruly? If I'ma say
so, ruly What if I stand
on trial? What if I stand
on jury? What are we on
TV? Who's the judge?
Judge Judy? What am I
supposed to return all
these cars and jewelry?
Like I ain't even know
how the flow supposed to
go Like I ain't even know
how the show supposed to
flow Like I ain't even
know how the beat
supposed to sound Like I
ain't even know where the
notes supposed to go Like
I ain't even know how my
soul's supposed to feel
Like I ain't supposed to
win, like I ain't
supposed to glow But
you'll never understand
the way that I think If
you ain't grow up with
it, sold dope before Oh,
number one draft pick,
number one draft pick Oh,
he's nice for a black
guy, oh, he's smart for a
rapper Oh, that's who
he's with? Oh, she's cute
for a black chick Oh,
he's actually cool, I
went to school with him
actually Actually, he
could have has a
masterpiece Now it's just
a fuckin' catastrophe
Anyway, get fists on a
fire Tell him send it
over to Mastra Insertada:
Anonimo

www.DiceLaCancion.com
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