Flaunted spouses, and haunted houses
The day has come, dipset remains the ones
And talk about houses that they’ve burned to grounds,
Make account getting vows spitting movable bowels
I'm bombing rap, 'bout as sick as a hypochondriac
Somebody tell satan that i want my fuckin' swag back
I start raiding these houses and blow in anger
Now the dashboard is wooden from a hard-tangled grammar
Honor that i'm guilty of bombing tracks
Tryin' to make iti only got one chance
Cause i got caught up in the scenewondering what would happen to this
Hostile when bombing posses like kamikazes, he's positive,
But now i see myself on stage,spitting like its fire leaving the mic in flames
The houses can be more crazy than paranormal activity tapes.
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