Song 31 Testo
Testo Song 31
All my everything is for you
All my terrible sense of humor and critical interviews
All my pearly gated redemption and casual afternoons
All this money you know I'm making
Like racin' against the moon, but
I sell pain for profit, and I feel prophet watchin'
Everything is for everything, rhymin' with causality
Ain't no labels that's backing me, but my tickets be sellin' out
And I'm steady raising my fee, that's another hit from my fee
110 degrees in the desert heat With a bubble coat, turtleneck underneath
Rolling up on the beach
Smokin a holy weed, laughing, baking
My homie Tee hopin' joking is all we need
When I sell pain for profit
Now I binge watch Atlanta
No more TV representation from a Kelsey Grammer
Let's toast to niggas getting checks who work behind the camera
Somebody raise they man up
Truth be told, I wear my heart on my sleeve
Watch you sit it on the shelf
Now my body got cold
I swear we'll never leave
Had to do it for myself, to find my praise
Go get your weapon
Real recognize real, feelin' like real proof
Real buddy-buddy after the trip to the Cancun
Million dollar baby, bet you can get to the hands, too Got a pack of wolves ready to damage a full moon
The only bitch actually rapping, it look like me now
Or meow, kitty just reimagined a freestyle
DM flooded, niggas still waitin' for me to reach out
We shadow boxing government hopin' they put the leash down
I sell pain for profit not propaganda
I know cancers origins link to Santa
I know Santa's origins link to money
Mass production of cattle, a slaughtering for the yummy
These niggas is clever, the prison no better
The ghost of the living
We ain't talkin' about Reggie on Christmas, we almost forget him
What's a casket to a holding cell if a nigga ain't in it
Only reason why I'm steady faded and still independent
Truth be told, I wear my heart on my sleeve
Watch you sit it on the shelf
Now my body got cold
I swear we'll never leave
Had to do it for myself, to find my praise
Go get your weapon
All my terrible sense of humor and critical interviews
All my pearly gated redemption and casual afternoons
All this money you know I'm making
Like racin' against the moon, but
I sell pain for profit, and I feel prophet watchin'
Everything is for everything, rhymin' with causality
Ain't no labels that's backing me, but my tickets be sellin' out
And I'm steady raising my fee, that's another hit from my fee
110 degrees in the desert heat With a bubble coat, turtleneck underneath
Rolling up on the beach
Smokin a holy weed, laughing, baking
My homie Tee hopin' joking is all we need
When I sell pain for profit
Now I binge watch Atlanta
No more TV representation from a Kelsey Grammer
Let's toast to niggas getting checks who work behind the camera
Somebody raise they man up
Truth be told, I wear my heart on my sleeve
Watch you sit it on the shelf
Now my body got cold
I swear we'll never leave
Had to do it for myself, to find my praise
Go get your weapon
Real recognize real, feelin' like real proof
Real buddy-buddy after the trip to the Cancun
Million dollar baby, bet you can get to the hands, too Got a pack of wolves ready to damage a full moon
The only bitch actually rapping, it look like me now
Or meow, kitty just reimagined a freestyle
DM flooded, niggas still waitin' for me to reach out
We shadow boxing government hopin' they put the leash down
I sell pain for profit not propaganda
I know cancers origins link to Santa
I know Santa's origins link to money
Mass production of cattle, a slaughtering for the yummy
These niggas is clever, the prison no better
The ghost of the living
We ain't talkin' about Reggie on Christmas, we almost forget him
What's a casket to a holding cell if a nigga ain't in it
Only reason why I'm steady faded and still independent
Truth be told, I wear my heart on my sleeve
Watch you sit it on the shelf
Now my body got cold
I swear we'll never leave
Had to do it for myself, to find my praise
Go get your weapon
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