SHOW THIS TO A FRIEND, AND BRING THEM OVER! THANKS!
LYRICS: I'm back on my target practice. While stashing up all my passion. These pacifists on my back while I'm rapping saying relax. And they'd rather see me collapse so they grab a hold of the strap that's attached. But my backpack holds much more than a gat.
My trigger's sentences. Sending this venom. Spitting this. Hit em. And killin it. While ironically hoping it heal em. Diligent. My approach isn't realer? They watching the show. Contending with it is iller than any venom is when in the flow.
They tell me to go slow, so I hit the pedal. But no. There's different levels of speed. I'm tryna explode. Just a metaphor for my beliefs. I'm making it known. Oh, and this is 16 a week. With 4 mo to go.
Easy like. Living the Ouija life. Bored. Gripping more than these swords. I believed the hype more than a morgue. Life is liken to mic cords while spitting it full force. Not once, but twice. There's more ice in the core. . .
street light sweet 16 a week common street light sweet 16 a week common street light sweet 16 a week common