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COMPOSITION & LYRICS
justin dingman
justin dingman
Songwriter

Letra

I'm on the grind, all the time, til they cut the check Money talks, people walk, and you don't look so green no disrespect How the fuck would I look if I talked like this when i told y'all to hit the deck Roll into church like once a week, then pick right back up where the wicked left Got a wicked left, ain't fit to stress, so I smoke a lot of weed I don't get depressed Y'all get the gist, and I guess I just, might be on some shit, but no pixie dust Don't zip me up, I got fifty bucks, in all ones in this bitch, who gonna get me up I'm rolling with it, I'm codependent, y'all know this shit is just such a rush I'm a get it while I can, I'm an animal attraction Y'all get it wrong and I'm all in the action Y'all get involved and I'm calling it practice Anyway you cut it you couldn't cut it at rapping I pee on these peons daily, and I could've shit too but I'm beyond lazy Dabbed out had my lean all wavy, in the backyard huffing that Freon baby Big booty bitches, run the world, and guess who can mention They hug them curves like a new dimension, it's ludicrous I'm just too consistent Who a'int shit, I'm just too convincing I do what I do, when I'm through, my interest Peaks through the roof, brand new, I guess it's Hard to be cool, when you're too expensive Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait, wait, wait Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait, wait, wait What they waiting for Tsunami the flow got waves of raw Words so real it'll break your jaw From impact, get em whacked, for they change and all Hot shit, make their brain evolve, any flame involved Couldn't hang in the range with God Let my reign rain down, like I'm making ponds Apply Pressure, the lecture, arranging pawns Who's real, who's not Lately I got, too crazy to box Ooh baby, the look that they gave me, I'm hot Like Arabian sun rays, thinking I'm Pac Speak the message, reach for the keys confessing, beef with a beat connection Down south had em lit, with the least expected emcee for the feast, with a fee injected Y'all know the method, so in tune with that dope connection I comb the room but I'm no detective, I hold the boom for my own protection Told the truth but that's no confession, open session, solely the only section Homies wreck it, brody there's no contesting, you can get it on the low like these phony X-Men Get em with the motive, til they notice how we hold it, til the industry imploded That's a victory to me it's unconditional I quoted, what I've mentally been noting, no defending it I'm open Open ended with the venom, I can end em in a moment They don't know it, but I'm probably the illest or the coldest Two dimensional devoted, sentimental my opponents A'int gon like it but I put it on my life, what you holding Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait, wait, wait Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait, wait, wait
Writer(s): Justin Dingman Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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