conches - daniel and rnoxg lyrics
[intro]
spark me up with this hundred, i need it real bad cause i couldn’t see it coming. if the gun blasts, then there’s no way of running. i’m a matter of the being suddenly turns to subject
verse one: rnoxg
spark me up with this hundred, i need it real bad cause i couldn’t see it coming. if the gun blasts, then there’s no way of running. i’m a matter of the being suddenly turns to subject
did i turn into something?
can i fly like a bird?
yeah bird is the word, i’ma fly arround my mind so my n*gga don’t disturb
imma hit em where it hurts, imma take these boys to church
imma show em whats real so they can really feel the verse
i dont ever pull the trigger, i got angels down and lurking
when they f*cking found that n*gga let the demons do the work
i warned you you was second but you wanted to be first
if you wanna be my n*gga let the waves of mine disperse
and we’ll smoke a couple pounds of the purp
maybe think of something that is out of this earth
take some tabs of the lucy, take another f*cking hit
down for the trip
verse two: daniel
gone off a bottle and a zip, noddin off and i’m never really conscious of it
i am only two old men in half a head, half of which is to each his own if i am to really reach what i had forgotten, oh
but for now i am to my knees in loam, is this really better than sitting at home on a foam pad hoping to cope, i dont know
wasn’t this supposed to be an overdose, i just spoke to god and he sent me on a boat back to earth
i guess i should retrace my doodles, erase the folds in my noodle until i make time for all you poodles
oodling at how brash i was one, i chuckle as i ask this chocolate blunt, gaspin
after a hardy lunch i am hardly stuffed or crunched for time, which itself has been replaced to make room for averse hits on web*pages and ip addresses
retrace this last verse it really was most heinous
verse 3: max
yo, it’s finny smacks with the bowl pack trappin out the bowl, and i know we both be f*ckin arround and duckin out with the bucket full of problems that we chicken out of. and i tried to make you proud like you matter, but what does it matter?
six in the morn and i’m already late from my absence of sleep, that i’m alread out of
smokin magic, im smacked, abra kadabra
fresh off a dab, out in dav with jasper, bumpin abba
have another hit attack, i rip bowls of the cereal side of this b*tch
couldn’t stomach this sh*t with no bladder, promisse some splatter
et’s spark this j, wander round the park in circles and get used to all the pressure in our faces
im so high that i could die whenever, but is that worse or does that make it better?
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