Criomag Bhidio
Briathran Òran
Yeah, yeah, yeah
– Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
– Yeah, yeah, yeah
(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)
– (ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)
Mama, don’t worry, I got my pistol
– Mama, na gabh dragh, fhuair mi an gunna agam
I’m gettin’ my dollars, you birthed a real nigga
– Tha mi a’ dol a dh’fhaighinn mo$, tha thu a ‘ birthed fìor nigga
Told my daddy, “Don’t be sorry, I’m not gon’ blame you”
– Ag ràdh ri m ‘athair, ” na bi duilich, chan eil mi gon ‘ a ‘ choire ort”
If it weren’t for struggle, my dreams, they wouldn’t came true
– Mur b ‘ann airson strì, mo bhruadar, cha bhiodh iad a’ tighinn gu buil
Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
– Bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha.
Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah
– Bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha.
Told mama, “Don’t worry, you know you raised a hardbody”
– Thuirt mama, ” na gabh dragh, tha fios agad gun do thog thu corp cruaidh”
Granny called the other day, said, “Don’t stress ’cause God got you”
– Granny ris an canar an latha eile, thuirt e, “Na cuir cuideam air ‘adhbhar Gun d’ fhuair Dia thu”
I’ma chase this paper every day, I ain’t doin’ no stoppin’
– Tha mi a ‘coimhead air an artaigil seo a h-uile latha, chan eil mi a’ dèanamh’stad’
Tryna stuff this cash in my jeans, I’m so 4 Pockets
– Tryna stuff an t-airgead seo anns na jeans agam, tha mi cho 4 Pòcaidean
All the times you gave a nigga your last, I can’t forget that
– A h-uile uair a thug thu nigga mu dheireadh dhut, chan urrainn dhomh dìochuimhneachadh sin
Eviction notice on the door, we was hidin’ from the rent man (Turned the lights off)
– Bha sinn a’ fuireach ann an taigh-òsta an stèisein (bha sinn a ‘ fuireach faisg air an taigh-òsta)
I ain’t never lettin’ nothin’ slide, I was taught to get my lick back
– Chan eil mi a-riamh a’ lettin’ nothin ‘ sleamhnachadh, chaidh mo theagasg gus mo lick fhaighinn air ais
Hit hard, move silent, I ain’t got time for all that chit-chat
– Chalo, chalo hum bhi tumhare saath chalei’n
Even though I feel like you wasn’t there, got mad love for my dad
– Ged a tha mi a ‘faireachdainn mar nach robh thu ann, fhuair thu gaol mad dha m’ athair
No hard feelings, I ain’t never cry ’bout nothin’ I ain’t have
– Chan eil mi a ‘caoineadh, chan eil mi a-riamh a ‘caoineadh’ bout nothin’
Growin’ up inside of poverty, that shit’ll have you mad (Mad)
– Tha thu a ‘dol a-steach don t-seòmar-ionnlaid, tha thu a’ dol a dhèanamh madadh-allaidh
Goin’ to school without no new shoes, that shit’ll turn you bad (Bad)
– A’ dol don sgoil gun bhrògan ùra, tionndaidhidh an cac sin thu gu dona (Dona)
Took security with my mama (My mama)
– Ghabh mi tèarainteachd le mo mhàthair (Mo mhàthair)
I know she got her pistol (Her pistol)
– Fhuair e an gunna (he got her pistol)
‘Fore I give a bitch anything (I swear)
– ‘Fore i give a bitch anything’ (tha mi a ‘ mionnachadh)
I’ma take care my sisters (My sisters)
– Tha mi a ‘ gabhail cùram de mo pheathraichean (My sisters)
We ain’t writin’ no more bad checks (No more bad checks)
– Chan eil barrachd sgrùdaidhean dona (No more bad checks)
My lil’ boy them know ’bout private jets (PJs)
– Kabhi socha bhi na tha private jets (PJs)
And my auntie them, they straight now (Okay)
– Agus mo bhràthair iad, tha iad dìreach a-nis (Ceart gu Leòr)
It ain’t too much for ’em to worry about, I promise
– Chan eil e ro fhadalach airson dragh a ghabhail mu dheidhinn, tha mi a ‘ gealltainn
Mama, don’t worry, I got my pistol
– Mama, na gabh dragh, fhuair mi an gunna agam
I’m gettin’ my dollars, you birthed a real nigga
– Tha mi a’ dol a dh’fhaighinn mo$, tha thu a ‘ birthed fìor nigga
Told my daddy, “Don’t be sorry, I’m not gon’ blame you”
– Ag ràdh ri m ‘athair, ” na bi duilich, chan eil mi gon ‘ a ‘ choire ort”
If it weren’t for struggle, my dreams, they wouldn’t came true
– Mur b ‘ann airson strì, mo bhruadar, cha bhiodh iad a’ tighinn gu buil
Oh, yeah, oh, yeah
– O, seadh, seadh, seadh
Told mama, “Don’t worry, I’ll be just fine”
– Thuirt mama, ” na gabh dragh, bidh mi ceart gu leòr”
Angels watch over my shoulder like an umpire
– Bidh ainglean a ‘ coimhead thairis air mo ghualainn mar umpire
I could get in the octagon with these punchlines
– B ‘ urrainn dhomh faighinn a-steach don octagon leis na punchlines sin
Like, nigga, I’m the captain and it’s crunch time
– Tha, tha, tha an t-àm ann, tha mi duilich
Skip the lunch line, gotta eat more than sometime
– Leum an loidhne lòn, gotta ithe barrachd na uaireigin
I done time, so I think everyone one-time
– Rinn mi ùine, mar sin tha mi a ‘ smaoineachadh a h-uile duine aon-uair
Colorblind to the sunshine, I’d rather moonshine
– ‘S fheàrr leam a’ ghrian I would prefer to the sunshine
Told the team, “I don’t care who shine as long as you shine”
– Thuirt an sgioba, “chan eil dragh agam cò a sheallas cho fad’ s a tha thu a ‘ deàrrsadh”
Keep a California dumb blonde with a boob job
– Cùm blonde balbh California le obair boob
Rather give me a blowjob than get a new job
– An àite sin thoir dhomh blowjob na faigh obair ùr
Too high, fuck the shit out her, then we woosah
– Ro àrd, fuck an cac a-mach i, an uairsin bidh sinn a ‘ woosah
Woo-ha, got you all in check like a swoosh sign
– Woo-ha, fhuair thu a h-uile dad ann an sgrùdadh mar shoidhne swoosh
Told my daddy, “I don’t blame you, neither claim you”
– Ag ràdh ri m ‘ athair, “cha chuir mi a’ choire ort, ni mò a tha thu ‘ g iarraidh”
You was never in the picture, somebody framed you
– Cha robh thu a-riamh san dealbh, chuir cuideigin dealbh thugad
Moms bought my first pistol, brought me to the range too
– Cheannaich Moms a ‘ chiad pistol agam, thug iad mi chun raon cuideachd
Since the day I could walk, I been on the same two
– Bhon latha a b ‘ urrainn dhomh coiseachd, bha mi air an aon dhà
Mama, don’t worry (Tunechi), I got my pistol (Lil’ bitch)
– Mama, na gabh dragh (Tunechi), fhuair mi an gunna Agam (lil ‘ bitch)
I’m gettin’ my dollars (Yeah, yeah, yeah), you birthed a real nigga (Mula, baby)
– I’m gettin ‘my dollars (Yeah, yeah), tha thu a’ breith fìor nigga (Mula, pàisde)
Told my daddy, “Don’t be sorry, I’m not gon’ blame you”
– Ag ràdh ri m ‘athair, ” na bi duilich, chan eil mi gon ‘ a ‘ choire ort”
If it weren’t for struggle (Yeah, yeah, yeah), my dreams, they wouldn’t came true (Mula, baby)
– Mura biodh e airson strì (Yeah, yeah, yeah), mo bhruadar, cha bhiodh iad a ‘ tighinn fìor (Mula, pàisde)
Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
– Bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha.
Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah
– Bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha, bha.
