Cause this is how i feel when i ain’t rappin on the mic you bitch
I'm at morgan, howard, coppen, trying to find that higher knowledge
Because the baller lifestyles were all they showed on tv screens,
To me playing in the game is worth more than the seats
Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars
How would you feel if you were the one gagging trying to cough
Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns
Feel hella awkward, when they auction of coffins.
Teeth of an american teen ankles on candy fiend
Ain't no nigga touching my style, it got a force field
Got smite, 'here lies, on the fourth of july', they recite as you cried tears,
Thank god for what i did with blocking against this shaky defense
Better pray that this chopper jam like a radio single, man
Dependin' on how i feel, either the coupe or sedan
How do you think that sounds when they turn on and listen,
Only fear death when you staring down a loaded gun
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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