°Ë»ö ¹æ¹ý   
Á¦¸ñ: Sunday
°¡¼ö: Harry Fraud

(Verse)
I¡¯m on a heavy guap search, fox furs, lobster
Ambitions of a mobster inspired by a pop verse
Thoughts like clockwork orange in the dark search
Sharp nerves to my brain and boy, am I a lot worse.
Drugs, they apparently want us to stop,
Carping out part, what the therapist thought it.
But it¡¯s cool, cause the school and the parents support him,
So we took a silver spoon and cook some heroine on ¡®em.
Sky¡¯s the limit, but that¡¯s life after death,
To then we¡¯re just some blind mice in the labyrinth.
They wonder what¡¯s the smell, that¡¯s the Cali¡¯ stench,
Cause I be twisting Ls like the Ellen lounge.
I don¡¯t really give a fuck now,
I roll when down been off now,
Yo, I¡¯m on the ground, I¡¯m thinking background
Cause I like one soon as I touch down
My room throwing up with kush clouds,
I¡¯m so wasteful, can¡¯t get enough pounds,
Smoking one off uptown in the bus round
And I¡¯m zooded, still I continue to roll it
Less connection with the world, more connection with the soul.
More direction, leading the conception of the poem,
Such perfection, settle for no less that I¡¯m owed
Sorry, karma, I mean, I¡¯m sorry, mama,
I mean, I¡¯m sorry father, almighty, don¡¯t bother
I got an Old Bible in my living room, parler I address it
As soon that shawty say that she don¡¯t wanna swallow.
I mean

Puffing on the shorm stick, watching how the stone flick,
Keep the chronic burning but burning just like a furnace.
Mama said I¡¯m worthless cause I purchase too much angel dust
I don¡¯t give a fuck, cause all I wanna do is take a puff.
Save enough for later alligator, you know imma feed
If I get dehydrated I¡¯ll stuck it and imma mean
Up upon the scene with my team before my time is up
It¡¯s a guarantee that Eddie B will Amy Winehouse
Don¡¯t raise your eyebrows, you know I¡¯m a basket case,
If I don¡¯t get a quick fix imma smash your face.
Moving out a faster phase, you rappers can¡¯t keep up with me,
I¡¯m sniffing something white while you be sipping on a bubba leaf.
Buzzing like a bumble-bee, I¡¯m higher, so you¡¯re under me
The brain is full with fuckery, that lame on living comfortably.
It¡¯s utterly ridiculous, but imma stay articulate,
Meticulous, playing with your bitch little clitoris.
How ill is this, everything I touch turns to extasy,
Dope roll speed is the motherfucking recipe.
The rest MC, Eddie B will take you to the maximum,
And if they¡¯ve got a problem imma have to shove it acinoum.
Asking them why you starting drama with a veteran
I wrote he¡¯s been intelligent, grow up and take your medicine.
Your marijuana¡¯s Mexican, I rather pop some masculine.

-----------------
Sunday
Harry Fraud

°¡¼ö
Á¦¸ñ
Á¤È®ÇÑ °¡¼ö,Á¦¸ñÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù.

Àα⠰¡»ç TOP 100  ¿¬µµº° Àα⠰¡»ç  ¶óµð¿À ¹æ¼Û µè±â
Copyright ¨Ï ÁÁÀº °¡»ç °Ë»ö, 2024 (°¡¿ä,ÆË¼Û °¡»ç°Ë»ö)