Scratched (feat. Kembe X)

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Hurt Everybody

Hurt Everybody was a hip-hop group from Chicago, consisting of members Supa Bwe, Mulatto Beats, and Carl. They gained recognition for their unique fusion of genres, blending elements of hip-hop, electronic, and R&B. The group's introspective and introspective lyrics, combined with their experimental production, created a distinct sound that resonated with their fans. Unfortunately, they disbanded in 2016, but their music continues to be appreciated by many. more »

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Good smoke for the weary soul
Mick drink water, I need my Remy cold
Best Sativa that I ever rolled
I smoke to every story never told
Cause she don't need to know
She the same, we the same scratched track
From the same scratched disk
Can't tame wandering vixens
I've slain warrior bitches
I'll change, ignore all my stitches
Baby I'll be back soon, I'm losing my mind
Like all good times...
We'll all fade by...
Fear ain't part of my weakness
Spoke and gave you a thesis
Put a bull in a glass shop
And listen to every sequence
Dreaming 'bout how they eating
How the f*ck we ain't eating?
It's a predators season
How the f*ck we ain't eating?
Am I loving or feeding?
Are we dating or fucking?
Do we f*ck for a reason?
F*ck all of her feelings
She don't f*ck with my feelings
Told her I'll be back soon, you bruising my vibe
Quid Pro Quo
Said I got you if you got me
My eyelids so low
OG Papi got me choppy
That's incomparable
To when I catch her and I lock her in like air-strikes
This might be a fair fight
I caught her with my bare hands and held her up in paradise
Scuffin' up the game shoes, all this shit is brain food
I can't lose
She came through with demons who dressed up as angels
Spliffs like it's Englands, "biznite" I'm Wayne dude
Fifth for the pain, you, chasing the waterfalls
Facing my fathers flaws, tracing my daughters palms
Thanks to the mighty call, the ocean met the sky
My heart cooking my brain, my eyes have opened wide
She spinnin' on my dick, and she skippin' on your disk
So you gets no scratch, yo' tracks gettin no tick
Bank roll, pockets looking like a blow fish
I've been pickin' cotton like my grandest daddy ol' bishh
(Grandmamamamama)
I still ain't drop, so you judge me by my old shit
06' I was sixth grade, diagnosis
Brain broke, script me up with Ritilin and more shit
I would trade the ceiling for the floor
Fucking with them yes-men you will never know shit
Puffin' potent at the pier posted
If the coppers come around Im'a ghost it
Feeling like the man, scratch what anybody sayin'
F*ck a twitter troll tryna f*ck wit anybody head
Catch me on repeat street, no skips I'ma run the whole ship
Ugh

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