1. |
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Know I'm not well spoken
Smoke a lot, house tokin'
We did a lot of soul searchin'
We wait a lot, all frozen
I'm floatin' soon
I'm makin' this sound
When you're makin' your rounds
Ship up and sail
When you run outta ground
But no I'm jokin'
So follow this sound
When you cover your ground
Oh you're in love with the down
Well I'm in love with that frown
But now I'm jokin'
I'm jokin'
Know I'm not well spoken
Smoke a lot, house tokin'
We did a lot of soul searchin'
We wait a lot, all frozen
I'm floatin' soon
Whether I "got it" or not
It's not my bullshit
Watch this, I'm 'bout to smoke pot
It's not my bullshit
Gather to gawk at my cock
It's not my bullshit
You're not my bullshit
Whether I get shit or not
It's not my bullshit
There ain't a fuck on this block
It's not my bullshit
You're not my bullshit
With a mic in my hand
Don't really give a damn if you like who I am
You can question it like
"That's not the real Sam,
We don't like change,
You should get back to the band"
Well that's what I'm planning
Trapped in demanding
Rap from the man
In the mirror with a fan
To the flame on the brain
Put the pen to the name
You don't like where my aim is?
Stop complaining!
Damn
Y'all so misguided
Criticize me cuz I had to try this
Get a fly beat and my mind is a pilot
Speech teleprompted inside of my eyelids
Out of sight and mind I write the rhymes
You like the lines but not that I'm the one to write em
Now you try to hide the light inside but you just
can't deny this, the flow is righteous
Silly boy with his ankles around his genes
Wranglin' 'em to the ground
Boy, I'm not joking
Everyone's a rapper now
It's bullshit, try to tell me that I'm not allowed
What, you needing me to spell it out?
A, B, see me making myself proud
Surveyin' the scene of this hellish dream
To know what it means but not come clean
And I'm not jokin'
It's not my bullshit
Everyone's unhappy now
It's bullshit, try to tell me that I'm not surrounded
By everybody that just want to doubt this
Lost the box, and put grenades around it
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2. |
Feast In The Hall
02:16
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I'll be leaving on a mission soon
With humble fingers of persistence
I won't be glossing over the half past noon
There'll come a time when
You'll cum just right when I say
'Nother feast in the hall
Makin' frames fall
With the bitch that you call
"Baby doll"
Getchya
Clit, it's not what you make it
You'd better lick
A position you're good with
One bit
But baby, you'll miss it
I bet it's a better one this way
Heaven forbid
This tongue is wasted
So leave me wishes on the phone
And blow me kisses
Your pussy greets me at the door
Like she always do
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Saint Solitaire Sacramento, California
Industrial progressive dance with intricate rhythm, heavy electronic elements, beautiful melodies, and clean guitar lines. Lyrics written especially for the honest.
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