BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
2AM Thesis
- I ain’t fallin’ back in that trash repeat
- Tryna find peace cause the game goes deep
- Tell her read it off the page while I twist my leaf
- She don’t cut up, she can hold this fact
- Tell one slide over, pour it up, no fear
- Soda pop for the baddies in mimosa glass
- Didn’t trip once, homie, I ain't new here
- I ain’t dumb, talkin’ whole eloquence
- These dudes passin’ round same IG baddies
- And I can’t keep runnin’ back that old film
- Most these cats just stage play
- But I’m gon’ always preach like I’m Moody with the blue jam
- Face lift turn to pay flips
- Gotta hit the body shop for a few grands
- Can’t paint a pic clear through the pain and mascara
- Mama in the house tryna stack them loose bands
- Lowkey blowin' checks on a freak
- Still checkin’ in on them food stamps
- Top downs in the hood, sittin’ heavy on them deuces
- My dude, peep the globe, that’s domination
- Yo, what a deviation
- Unfair when one slip blockin’ off whole plays
- Tipsy tryna dip, that’s kid games
- Glass cubes in a zone, that’s a turf with some weight
- Look, steam in the whip like a sauna booth
- And a hand to the sky like I got that drive
- Til I’m slidin’ with the top peeled back, grin stretch wide
- But I ain’t pressin’ pause, you better pray, it’s fine
- Spittin’ with that soul might get you pressed
- Homie, pop your piece, homie, pop your piece
- Speakin' with that brass, preachin' that real
- Speakin' with that brass
- Ain’t really got bars like me
- You should know by now, y’all lames
- I stay crisp but I still got grime, test me
- You got clocks in your hat like a style with a flat fee
- You got clocks in your domepiece
- Peek quick like, “Where he post at?”
- But I’m slidin’ through clean, better peek from your left side
- Truth is, I’m behind your blind side
- I ain’t laid back with my feet in position
- Don’t trip, this ain’t Madden Sundays
- Why I’d trace your trail, like I’m stuck in your kicks?
- And for real, I take the long route
- Better choose the right way when the lanes split
- Better mind your lips, better guard your neck
- Preachin’ heavy facts, dog spit that grit
- That dude got some Coltrane in him, speakin’ with that brass
- You don’t hear it like this except every blue moon hittin’
- Waitin’, I’m spaced, like vintage denim
- Where the dish look rich, tell em chill while I splash it
- Just cheffing that flame
- And I ain’t cheerin’,
- Self soothin’, soda pop in them mimosa glasses
- And the man been tight, so I’m posted like a healer prescribin’
- Man been graced but the man been ill
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