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COMPOSITION & LYRICS
IMAN.
IMAN.
Songwriter
Devon Smith
Devon Smith
Songwriter
Frederick McCulloch-Burton
Frederick McCulloch-Burton
Songwriter
Xavier Holliday
Xavier Holliday
Songwriter
Qari Delaney
Qari Delaney
Songwriter

Şarkı sözleri

Mogs walkin' round with pistols Guess they never liked pencils I just always loved dope, and now when I walk, it's like the ground sizzles Swimming in a cul-de-sac of options, I possess a handful of talents Too many peasants claim king, I find my gun full of balance I wish I had it as good as it looks But if I had it that good I'd be whack Like a V-neck shirt to the club, YUCK! If I had it good, I'd be that My mother taught me fashion design, so Most of what I wear, I designed, and Everything I wear woman like, joe The baddest in the room should be mine, ho! I got employees, looking like I plotted on the Ouija board Connecting with all the dead presidents, and now I'm getting my George and Weezy on Get my Vegeta on They gone pay me what they owe me and a little bit more Because I'm smarter than my elders and I settles the score I ain't wired too tight, but my appearance is clean Summon up my equals in Chicago to cook up a regime It don't matter what your class, you can make it yourself With the longer you have struggle, you should make it to wealth (Blessed) It's like we ain't supposed to have shit 'Cept magic, got magic, this magic It's mad kids, with match stick, fed madness Then locked up, vanquished, banished It's like we ain't supposed to have shit 'Cept magic, make magic, this magic Got magic, this magic, this magic Magic, magic, this mahjik Tear soaked loafs, Blood in the city This the verse heard around the world babe come fuck me if you feel me My city is a hell, Devil working well Killing ourselves, all under spells Get em for the funds and the gear Young niggas tote guns over here And they run off of fear Shootin' with the sun in the air Niggas shootin' with the sun in the air And they told who done it Your homie gone 25 summers, but the nigga that he hit he had it coming The nerves of him, absurd how we live But the life gets deeper the further you swim The lap of lux, done passed us up It's them or us, Our knuckles up Enough's enough enough's enough Our knuckles up, It's them or us The lap of lux, done passed us up All under spells Killing ourselves Devil working well My City is a hell I'm on auto-pilot I think I'm a shaman Swallow ultraviolet Let the truth unfold on this silent night This pursuit of gold, and my pride is plight Pie everlasting, I'll find a slice This algorithmic, jot down the digits No mathematician, You maleficent My palates switching, Been had this shit Man that's magic, and we ain't even supposed to have shit
Writer(s): Frederick Mcculloch-burton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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