Correction Paroles Chezè Librè par Imaginary Friends

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One two one two one two
Aye at least I know how to read
No matter anything else
(Get live motherf**ker)
Word
(Nine five motherf**ker)

Yo
N***as play this game all kind of foul
Guaranteed without a doubt
God damn you out of bounds
I heard them shooting like the buzzer started counting down
Nicholas Cannon with it, god damn you wilding out
Somewhere out of town
LJ signing out
Cuz every time our laws won, n***as want a problem now
God damn you out of line
Boy look at your follow count
Drop the Jansport commercial, n***as wanna swallow now
F**k the politics, no longer have the tolerance
They talking who's the hottest sh*t and I don't get acknowledgement
When n***as favorite rapper on some 'can I have a dollar' sh*t
But I been counting gualas since the most blunted saga kicked
Comments in
Independent artistry ain't all legit
Real sh*t look so bootlegged to all the counterfeits
All of my integrity I couldn't learn to part with it
Now who go the hardest while these other n***as hardly win
(Nine five motherf**ker)
Aye man
Ah, nah it's cool
Heh-heh
(Get live motherf**ker)
Whatever, don't ever disrespect me though
(All the time motherf**ker)
Especially if you ain't even
(On the grind motherf**ker, ooo!)
Whatever
(Make it shine motherf**ker)
Everybody know
(All the time motherf**ker)
Sh*t, Google know with its f**king, eight thousand-
(Running on your mind motherf**ker)
-eight hundred thousand plus pages about me
(Nine five motherf**ker)
I get-

Real
Soon as they don't get this sh*t they want from you they gon' send the taunts at you, god damn these n***as wild
Childish as a little kid, god damn you out of bounds
Shots from this Twitter screaming god damn you n***as foul
In the corner with some gunge, you're like the only child
F**k what you and your homies going on about, I'm talking now
DJ, uh, leave a n***a [?] before we bark it out
Cuz when since the eighties jamming loud we can't talk it out
8 hours away from hometown, but still talk of town
Murder every bad b*t*h in sight, I'm tryna chalk 'em out
Still at the villa with Camilla kicking proper sound
I promise every n***a out my town is spitting watered down
Ain't nobody Iron Man, these n***as all Robert Down
You thinking you It, the wrong kind of clown (heh)
You could find me casually outside my momma house
Blowing on the loudest bum around, what we talking 'bout
For real though
(Get live motherf**ker)
What we doing
Okay so I was gonna
(All the time motherf**ker)
(Money on the mind motherf**ker)
Heard them weak n***as from the San Diego sh*t too
(That ain't your prime motherf**ker, ooo!)
(Get live motherf**ker)
I don't get it man
(All the time motherf**ker)
I really do this sh*t for a living tho, it's the thing
(Nine five motherf**ker)
Yeah
(On your mind motherf**ker, ooo!)

Yo
N***as ride the whole wave but that real sh*t remain ours
They talk sh*t in late April and get May showers
A strong movement made the coolest n***as hate ours
They can recreate ours but they can never take ours
The drunken master as I slide through with great bars
Causing a ruckus bring your manager and HR
Who need an AR no contest in bay (brrr)
We grow grade A [?] with good hands like State Farm
No legal team but smart enough to pa** the state bar
We [?]
God damn
Actually nah I figure just let it ride out

So the trip gets lighter. And I start to realize maybe this was some weird sort of spiritual journey. The little guy in the bag was the unknown angst that I had inside of me tryna show me that none of this sh*t really matters in the end. At least that's what I'm telling myself I guess. So I almost think I mastered this sh*t right? I almost think I got this acid sh*t right by the t**s but just like life and everyone in mine it f**ks me. Sends me down another emo goth boy side road, down a darkened, saddened path. Cue the music bag boy

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