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lirik lagu muze sikk - legend 11

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it’s in my denim
it’s in my jeans
this ain’t no demo
young billy dean

ya feel me deep
in ya cave of brahman
when i phase ya brain
i’m in a state of conscious

surrounded by abundance
gl-ss half full
when i take another sip
the gl-ss still full

the caste that i mold will impact my soul

surp-ss my fold till i p-ss my goals

imagine my goals getting p-ssed tenfold

imagine my -ss on a jet blowing douja

got a couple keys to couple of doors

got a couple deeds to a couple of coasts

time is an allusion to any illusion

dying in confusion is dying and losing

crucial

this is how we clue the doops in

without a new sense – you is a nuisance

now is when you choose

will you supply or abuse it?

provide or rely ?

its a simple solution

but sikk; how am i supposed to grow and improve when
i’m glued to the tube like a noob with two cents

you need to understand i was once where you is

and realize my life wasn’t mine for the choosing

but when i took the wheel and said f-ck who is losing

including my self i made a pact to do sh-t

i don’t b-mp music that isn’t by muze sikk

i don’t f-ck floosys and i don’t suck dookies

i was writing songs back in middle school stupid

i was looping loops back in middle school stupid

whose the motherf-cker that doesn’t get wit the ruckus huh ?

shook a suckuh up with a couple of knuckles huh huh ?

the venomll get em if i didn’t get em to suffocate

send em to a dentist in venice
who can’t resuscitate

say no more and out they go

they don’t wanna get involved
ain’t no more being practical

ain’t no more that i can show

send em home shaking
i bend em but don’t break em
centerfold spanking
i’m sending her home naked

sh-t is so crazy when none of these foes faze me
i’m sending my soul to satin as soon as i’m going major

i’ve settled the scores lately
i’m fed up with yours lately
instead of applause pay me
i’m better than y’alls favorites

b-tch you better pray you don’t see me in the streets
imma spit on your shoes
imma skeet on your sleeve

sleep is for weak hearted people
the feet is for stinking
kinky things
and running sh-t b-tch

you might have to stomach this fist
get glitched
clique up
suck sikks spit
get ripped off
f-ck thick chicks in the trunk of a pick up truck
i wanna blunt i can flick and stick up

in the air

i don’t really care

arm out the window

with a pocket full of glare

b-tch be humble


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