And there's little to be glad for
Im feeling lower than a broken bumper
We gotta find peace and end the war in the streets
Subtweets lower than sub-bass blasting submarines,
Your lines of rhyme just keep getting lower and lower
So for this time being, i hope this open scribe might support her
Always biting his teeth, his outer lip was shrouded with countless slits
And we don't fucking make horrorcore, you fucking idiots
Me and my microphone could be one
It's the big lip assassin
And i ride for any nigga who believe in the shit
Convinces the lower minded and the slower sighted
Sneak, keep my lip low, i tripped.. oh no!
I’m trying to go though, y’all already know though
See, my bitch got that attitude to fuck a nigga right
Breath held tight, biting your lip, and your dead by night/
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