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1ABVE SESSIONS | NAN FIERO
par
The Alchemist
Regreso
Letra
Remove the Carhartt fleece, only to reveal the Carhartt tee They be taking me for my chips like a card-shark scheme That’s a easy fix like the car part’s cheap A gifted artist like how interviews with Nardwuar be What? Too many likes in the verse, random If she my wife then she might get a purse, and some Since I was just a lil’ tyke in the church I used to always think my life was the worst And I was right but I’m finna put that drive in reverse Sh*t I might hit the curb Or I might hit a curveball I might get to third Then steal home even if I have to slide in the dirt If ya’ like what ya’ heard I could write you a verse for the right integers The price is absurd ‘cause I’m priceless for sure I want the whole pie f**k a slice for dessert I’m nice that’s my word, yo I turn a pair of New Balance into No Balance Same color as my snow jacket, but I don’t match ‘em The young Cro-Magnon man I’m so handsome Loverboy, me and these beats be romancing Under 80bpm we slow-dancing Riding these WAVs I’m in a boat smashing wit’ no co-captain slapping Bo Jackson I make ‘em follow every word it’s close-captioned Folks mad they flow lacking and terrible too, they throw tantrums No capping when I write it’s all lowercase If I don’t feel welcome I’ma overstay I’m fully ga**ing on a quarter tank, the whip be looking spiffy in a slower lane Copped the car wash then started pouring rain Trunk storage space where I hoard the paint, fornicate When I bust it out spray up them walls, see how that correlate? It’s sorta late I‘m texting shorty wit’ a gorgeous face She love to show her cakes knowing I’m overweight, oh behave I’m Homer Jay at the bar with Moe Szyslak Wasted like that valuable time I won’t get back I should be at home in the zone wit’ a cold six-pack Instead of always tryna go pitch-black Out the way while my folks chitchat, then wonder why I don’t hit ‘em up Like old diss tracks, that raw from out the jaw who don’t spit crack? A breath of fresh air with no Tic-Tacs Say what the f**k I want don’t hold sh*t back And I won’t kick back, unless I’m hanging out with the pris Them cold winter nights the block remain a thousand degrees But it’s nothing like two thousand and three I was 11 home alone I‘d feel like Kevin if my house wasn’t cheap I’m watching Freddy vs. Jason thinking childish things Like imaging Freddy Krueger tryna prowl in my dreams I doubt he’d succeed, them gunshots would always wake me out of my sleep Before I knew of KRS I knew the sound of police I’m just sliding on this Alchemist beat Hoping he send a pack and I don’t mean a pound of some weed No shame, all propane and no brakes From your favorite no-name, Nán Fiero baby Let’s go
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