Written by: Vincent Luviner
Duration: 3:09
Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Alcapurrias’ by Agallah. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Agallah or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Ain’t nothing fucking with Ag and Pistol Paz
‘Bout to spaz with the bars like Alcatraz
Word to Sean, ’bout to kick a bone up out your ass
The rap shit could do better off without your ass
I’m not a rap fan, but I smoke the Afghan
Stand like the last man, cats need a CAT scan
Brain need a transplant, stupid f*ck, hashtag
You the type to wash your face with an ass rag
Kill cockroach rappers like a black flag
What make Ag mad is bombs in Baghdad
Put your soul on ice too, Ras Kass
It ain’t funny when Ag with the last laugh
You eat bath salts, I do salt baths
[?], all you do is talk trash
Raw perico, black from Puerto Rico
[?], big shout from the east coast
Turn me all the way up, high as f*ck
The industry not high enough
You eye in eye with the higher you, but there ain’t no “I” in “Us”
See, Hov one of my favorites, I ain’t trying to bust
Same way I’m unsigned, guess I ain’t try enough
Vinnie stalk you like an Audi coming, Maserati
Body something, I’m dutching the lobby
Probably with shotties busting
You hot like oil, then Ag’ll roast you, you get shot like photos
Heavy metal Glock in my photo, nigga, we’ll rock and roll you
Off the bridge, you don’t want no drama
I’mma catch you in the Bahamas and put your brain on your baby mama
Now we can talk about mills when I’m finished
Hennessy was a popular drink and it still is
I’m ’bout to turn these faggot niggas into mannequins
It don’t even matter why I’m mad again
Kill him at the Vatican
He a square? Kill him at the Madison Garden
Like a motherfucking Spartan cause I’m panicking
Nigga
A muhfucker stupid if he think life fair
See, waking from a dream and seeing me is a nightmare
The chopper gon’ lift this dummy out of his Nike Airs
Muhfucker see black mirrors and white bears
You see this is life here, take this advice here
You witnessing the second crucifixion of Christ here
I’m ’bout to catch a homi when I dim all the lights here
The bullets travel fast, but it feel like a light year
I came straight from Hell with a pitch black force
With a black pitch fork and a pitch black Porsche
Yous a baby food dude and your shit’s that soft
I’m the bang, bang, body bag, click-clack boss
It’s dark here, Philly don’t bother with street lights
McLaren F1’s move faster than street bikes
It’s peace till the OG, give me the green light
I slap the ghost out of anybody that breathe hype