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I don't know if it's in the record store yet But I wanna pick it up, so, what's up? It don't feel right (it don't, it don't) It don't feel right (oh-oh-oh) It's all in the stars By ways of Mars With my dark (oh, oh) With my dark (oh, oh) Always standin' on Or bettin' on my fault Monetary Gods Never shoot your guards Power You do anything for power Our presence with the Lords Infiltrate our Gods We blame it what we are This is ours No don't you cry, no more Had to be made 'cause the pain Oh, whoa, oh-oh Try to stay sane (oh, oh, oh, oh) Man, aye man, I'm tryna go to this record shop, man, call this niggas I know these niggas there, we gotta call 'em right now, call 'em Aight, aight, we'll call 'em right now Ah, where these niggas at though? Come on, Pink Siifu, Fly Anakin, I know you're there You're not doin' anythin', it's a record shop You're fuckin' sittin' there collecting dust Ain't nobody there, ain't nobody fuckin' there These niggas too cool, and bye
Writer(s): Brittany Foushee, Frank L Walton Jr., Greg Saldate, Livingston Matthews Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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