CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Still Right Here
[Chorus]
Hopefully, hopefully, I'm in your head
I hope that you don’t forget that I'm
Still right here
Still right here
Still right here, here
I'm still right here
[Verse: Tech N9ne]
In the flesh like ain’t no death sight
Looking forward to the next night, much longevity for Tech's life
Like I'm searchin' for the neck bites, how many people will stress?
I'm one of the best mics, multimilli's you guessed right
One of the pioneers, I am here, nevеr looking at no dying years
Rhyming I'm in shining clear, when I gеt to going, they crying tears
Of happiness loving rapitty-rappy shit
That be smacking these tacky kids, blasting trash and be that remissed
When it comes to living legends, giving dead ends to [?] spitting peasants that wanna fit in begging
But inadequate rappers'll never sit in heaven
For the long haul, song fall
Everybody gone y’all, wrong call
He was in his own, all blown, dawg
(The industry) Dong sauce, grown drawers (Got in, hopefully)
They got they money where it supposed to be
Sitting hella heavy if he didn’t spin it totally
I can do whatever when I get up on the pen up in the middle
When I said I was a pro to be, bliss soulfully
Hella percussion—
Hopefully, hopefully, I'm in your head
I hope that you don’t forget that I'm
Still right here
Still right here
Still right here, here
I'm still right here
[Verse: Tech N9ne]
In the flesh like ain’t no death sight
Looking forward to the next night, much longevity for Tech's life
Like I'm searchin' for the neck bites, how many people will stress?
I'm one of the best mics, multimilli's you guessed right
One of the pioneers, I am here, nevеr looking at no dying years
Rhyming I'm in shining clear, when I gеt to going, they crying tears
Of happiness loving rapitty-rappy shit
That be smacking these tacky kids, blasting trash and be that remissed
When it comes to living legends, giving dead ends to [?] spitting peasants that wanna fit in begging
But inadequate rappers'll never sit in heaven
For the long haul, song fall
Everybody gone y’all, wrong call
He was in his own, all blown, dawg
(The industry) Dong sauce, grown drawers (Got in, hopefully)
They got they money where it supposed to be
Sitting hella heavy if he didn’t spin it totally
I can do whatever when I get up on the pen up in the middle
When I said I was a pro to be, bliss soulfully
Hella percussion—
