Lyrics:
sponsored with the water and the air
Dear Claire
Sincerely
Bored of London
By the way
The police are getting younger every day
I want to see
none my time
Im popping these percs she wanna fuck on me
Tell that ho get in line
Ain't gon' lie that I got a heart, oh yeah
You get slimed by the big
Man I
I been getting so fucking loaded in this bitch nigga
I, it's cuz like I been by myself and shit
And I just
I feel like I ain't have no one
bottom me
Told him he the foollness to the Godhead bodily
If I'm spinning, we overdoos it
Moved by the spirit, it's ministry over music
The enemy gave him
to my head and it makes me feel tipsy
But that's just how you feel I guess when you're rolling with Crispi
I'll turn your bro to bones if he talk about
call me by my name. He calls me, where's my dad? And. It creates an imbalance in the relationship when your boyfriend has a child and you don't, you
things
Instincts led me to rich links
This ish stinks
The devil isn't extinct
He's distinctly nsync with
Money, power, and greed
This hour needs our seeds
Clouded by drink
No way I could think
Fuck what they mean
Tours overseas
Ivy Done league
They say I’m a beast
Open your ears
Keep lookin’ at me
I hit
arm to the ground
Hahahah
Owww
Give me the ball
I'll never look back
Juking the comp
Stiff arming the best
She says I'm a mess
I promise. Me? She'll
can save me any day
What you gonna do?
Everybody love a hero, honey
Living on a danger line
Saved by, saved in the nick of time
I was saved in
sing His praises, I know He's the greatest
He gave us this power, now these moments ours
Cause God got a plan for me, yes He does
I know God, I know God
the disobedient hang 'em
Like Willy Lynch don't fuck with me
I'm a furnace, burning
Turn this mothafucka' inside out like
Daddy mac, mac
Daddy's back with a brand
the Predator
It's gettin' dissed by the editor
Looked up and hell of white for caper
It's to lynch a nigga on paper
But I'm much too black for the god
mother gave birth but she really never had me
Left to the hood to play daddy
Raised by niggas named Butch, Scoot or Bae-Bae
With weight so they weigh
might take me a sip them
niggas ain't sliding when shit hit the fan when shit hit the
Fan you gone see who your man it is what it is he's not your real
minded executive became a wealthy guy
And so he wed his secretary
They settled down in Waterbury
And they commute by stratos-ferry
My, they love
get dealt with
Wicked bitches get dealt with
No love for the helpless
No trust in the devils tricks
Whoa
Sons of perdition always trying to lynch
for fool, where's his Jewel
Was he usin' Mathematics as a tool?
Tell me, the struggle is God and I came to build
Shit is so real, inside you distilled
like the rains are hear to stay
And the rain pissed down upon me
And washed me all away
Saying
Papa won't leave you, Henry
Papa won't leave you, Boy
Alzheimer's, that's true
Fox News was started by a black dude, also true
Convinced my experiences were meant to be
Helps me navigate as they validate theyy
wanna fuck with us, you must've had no common sense
I'll kill you then your guts get eaten up by Brotha Lynch
It's Strange Music so the competition
that's the best thing goin' for me
You can't lynch Marshawn if Tom
Brady throwin' to me
I made a million mistakes
But I'm successful in spite of 'em
I
from Claire's
told me for work your an au pair
that mean you good at taking care
Ohh
We not hiding from it
got a lot of money
we signed a deal, I'm fake
Me lovin' to smoke tweed and me weed man
They givin' me what me need man when I light my blunt
fold the niggas up in me hood so when we smoke smoke
_(cropped).jpg/226px-Claire_Lynch_(30361323857)_(cropped).jpg "Claire Lynch")
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