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8 23
by
Lucien Parker
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I hear em chirpin they twitter chirpin it's perfect My Family a sermon I do em a service hol up' I hold the phone to my ear when she cry I know baby We runnin thin and my pockets as thin as slim shady We back and forth like a 4 door accord Turing in sleet slow sliding We flippin back like a 180 My stomach turnin I haven't eaten since 8, maybe So I stomach these bars, writin so much lately Can we live in today? For a Friday approach When we go back to the hustle I just got paid so let's smoke Let's just sit on Tuesday. We know we got work we know we got hurt But I leave in the morning Wednesday you back at the church f*ck if I'm late, f*ck if I'm first Either way I hate my day job Sometimes I can't see nothin else many days I feel like Ray Charles And I hate this life But I'm livin and breathing so I don't hate this life Enough But I've seen my friends wanna put themselves on a blade or gun I'm trapped Living on edge with a pencil Living on edge when I roll that Dutch with the music loud roll down my window Say f*ck a pig! Pork for the fork that's just my shit talk My diss walk millie rockin with my cuffs on make em pissed off Grip my hand before we flip this shit Sliding When we were kids and all decisions miss fired It could have been this that ended all this shit But I'm still me and you're still you And she bout to turn 22 and all of this Because I smoked a spliff
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